


To Be Shared

by clotpolesonly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arwen is very light background stuff, BAMF!Merlin, Dark!Morgana, Gen, Magic Reveal, Soul Sharing, canon AU, just a little tweaking of the timeline, magic!Arthur, remix eligible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A desperate attempt to save Arthur's life accidentally leaves Arthur so deeply infused with Merlin's magic that it becomes a part of him. Arthur must struggle with his new-found powers,  the new-found knowledge of Merlin's, and the new-found understanding he has for his servant. Meanwhile, Morgana continues to plan to overthrow Uther, but how will that plan change should recent events come to her attention?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have searched high and low for Arthur-has-magic fics, and there are so few to be found. And I never encountered one where Arthur hadn't had magic from birth, or occasionally developed it spontaneously like Morgana did. Either way, this idea struck me and wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> I wrote this fic for NaNoWriMo2012. It hit me two days after NaNo started--I hadn't intended to participate--and then it just came out in an absolute RUSH and I wrote 50k words in a total of maybe 13 days. I posted every chapter to ff.net immediately after I wrote it, so a new chapter every 18 hours or so. My readers were mind-boggled, and I took great pleasure in that.
> 
> Now I'm transferring all my stories from ff.net to here. So here it is.

"Stop being such a girl, Merlin."

"Well, I'm sorry for not seeing the point in this."

"The point? It's a hunting trip! The point is to hunt."

"You mean to slaughter innocent animals for no good reason? That's the point? Ah, well then, pardon me for not being particularly entertained by this pastime."

"You don't need to be entertained; you just need to be quiet."

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"So as not to scare away all the game."

"Maybe that's exactly what I want to do; alert all the animals to your coming so they can escape before they're cut down in the prime of their lives."

" _Mer_ lin."

"Yes, Arthur?"

" _Shut up._ "

"Ah. You only ever say that when you know you're losing."

" _Now_ , Merlin."

Merlin smirked and fell silent, hearing sniggers coming from the knights surrounding them. He had won the argument and everyone knew it, including Arthur. Gwaine was biting his lip to try to keep from laughing out loud, and he nearly lost it when Merlin caught his eye and smiled lopsidedly at him. Leon was smiling indulgently at the two of them and shaking his head in a sort of fond exasperation. Elyan was smothering a laugh behind his hand and Percival was just smiling benignly. The four knights other knights who had come with them, with whom Merlin was not very familiar, looked mildly uncomfortable with Merlin's disrespectful attitude and the other knights' nonchalance toward it, but they held their tongues. They knew it wasn't their place to speak up if Arthur didn't see fit to actually reprimand Merlin.

They rode for a few more minutes in silence, waiting for a deer or boar to cross their paths, but nothing seemed forthcoming. As the sun came directly overhead, Arthur brought them all to a halt near a stream to rest and water the horses. They all dismounted and went about their chores, but something felt off. It was quieter than it should have been, Merlin realized. It put him a bit on edge, but he went on preparing lunch for the gathered knights. It wasn't much of a surprise, then, when thirty or so bandits came roaring out of the surrounding woods into their camp.

Merlin immediately scrambled out of the way of the attackers, searching for Arthur. He saw him engaged in a swordfight with two bandits and he looked to be winning. Merlin was heading for the tree line, hoping to hide and work his magic as he usually did, when he was drawn up short by an ugly and brutish bandit with a sadistic grin on his face. He stumbled backwards as the man slashed at him with his sword, ducking and dodging until he could scoop up an abandoned sword from the ground. He brought the borrowed sword up to block a heavy blow that sent jolts of pain up his arms. He gritted his teeth and blocked another blow, still being forced back by the brute force of the man before him. He was quickly tiring, his arms shaking and his heart pounding, and he realized he was being pushed further and further away from the knights, from anyone who would come to his rescue.

Another heavy overhanded blow knocked the sword from his hand just as his heel caught on something behind him, sending him sprawling on his back. The bandit loomed over him, still grinning, and brought the sword up for the kill strike. Merlin instinctively raised his hand, scrolling through discreet spells in his mind that could save him, but he needn't have worried. The man made a strange choking noise and looked down to find the tip of a sword protruding from his belly. The sword was retracted and the bandit collapsed sideways to reveal Arthur, bloody sword in hand and a scowl on his face.

"Stop lazing around, Merlin, this really isn't the time."

Then he was off and back into the fight. Merlin rolled his eyes and huffed in irritation, but climbed to his feet. He crouched behind a nearby tree and began using his magic to turn the tide, tripping bandits and dropping tree limbs on them and so forth. They looked to be doing well, until Merlin saw a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Arthur stumbled backward, gasping, face twisted in pain. He was clutching his stomach, and his hands were covered in blood. He collapsed to his knees and fell backward. Merlin rushed to him, weaving between friends and foes alike until he knelt by Arthur's side. Prying his hands away, Merlin gasped and tried not to be sick; Arthur had been practically gutted. Merlin could see his intestines fighting to leave his stomach cavity, blood pouring out thick and dark. There was no way he could survive this.

Merlin's mind shut down for a second. Then it kicked into overdrive, going over and over every healing spell he had ever tried to learn, looking for something, anything, that could save him. Nothing he knew was strong enough to fix this, and even if he had known a spell he probably wouldn't have been able to perform it; he had never gotten the hang of healing magic. He could feel his magic pulsing beneath his skin, filling him, fighting to get out, to help, but he didn't know what to do. Arthur's eyes were closing, his breathing sharp and shallow.

"M...Merlin…" he choked.

Not knowing why he did it, just following his magical instincts, Merlin placed one shaking hand on Arthur's forehead and the other directly over his heart. His magic was swarming, buzzing inside him, pushing against his skin. Without thinking of a spell, without thinking of anything than the desperate need to heal his friend, his brother, his destiny, Merlin let his magic loose.

It exploded out of him with surprising violence. A wave of bright white light erupted from him and raced across the clearing, killing the remaining bandits but leaving the knights gaping, and felling the trees surrounding them for several yards. Merlin could feel his magic rushing into Arthur through his hands, filling him, and he could feel himself getting something in return, but he couldn't think what it could be. He didn't know how long he held this connection, pouring his magic into Arthur's body and soul, but when he next looked down, Arthur's wound was completely gone. Finally, gasping, Merlin wrenched his hands away from Arthur, whose eyes flew open.

They were glowing gold.


	2. Chapter 2

_He didn’t know how long he held this connection, pouring his magic into Arthur’s body and soul, but when he next looked down, Arthur’s wound was completely gone. Finally, gasping, Merlin wrenched his hands away from Arthur, whose eyes flew open._

_They were glowing gold._

 

They faded back to blue and closed just as quickly as they had opened, but they left Merlin reeling. He knelt there, staring, for what felt like hours. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whipped around to see Gwaine, who was looking at him with a mixture of shock and awe on his face. Merlin refused to meet his eye, suddenly terrified of what he might see there. Gwaine pulled Merlin to his feet and held the swaying boy steady with his hands on his shoulders. He studied Merlin’s face for a moment then pulled him into a hug. Stunned, it took a few seconds for Merlin to hug him back, but then he clung to him fiercely, relishing in the acceptance and the acknowledgement he had so long been denied.

When he pulled back, Gwaine was beaming at him. Merlin felt another hand on his shoulder and turned to see Percival smiling at him as well. Elyan and Leon too came to clap him on the back and nod their acceptance of his powers. Nearly overwhelmed by his gratitude, Merlin struggled to keep tears from falling, his cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling so much. Then he caught sight of the other four knights, the ones who didn’t know him as well. They were looking wary, maybe even a little frightened, and definitely distrustful. But Merlin didn’t have time to worry about them right now.

“Thank you,” he whispered to his friends.

“For what?” Gwaine asked, looking surprised.

“For not hating me,” Merlin explained. “For not looking at me like they are.” He nodded discretely toward the others, who had grouped together a few yards away. Gwaine scowled at them and rolled his eyes.

“They don’t know you like we do, Merlin. We know you could never be an evil sorcerer,” he said with a cheeky smile. Merlin beamed at him.

“We never got to eat lunch,” Merlin said, remember what they had been doing before the attack. “Are you guys hungry? Go sit, you must be tired. I can make—”

“ _We_ must be tired?” Elyan asked. “Merlin, _you’re_ the one who should be tired. From what I understand, that was a lot of magic. I’m surprised you’re still standing. You go sit down, we can handle lunch.”

“Besides, I feel wonderful,” Leon said.

“Me too, actually. Better than I’ve felt in years,” Gwaine added, bouncing on the balls of his feet and rolling his shoulders.

“Were none of you injured? You’re all alright?” Merlin asked worriedly, looking around at the bodies of the bandits he had somehow killed.

“I _was_ injured,” Percival admitted. “But that wave of magic, whatever it was, it didn’t just heal Arthur. It healed me too.” He showed them all a gash in his pant leg, surrounded by blood but with no wound in sight.

“I’m pretty sure I had a few nicks, too, but I can’t see to find them now,” Leon said, looking himself over. “That’s really impressive, Merlin. You deserve a rest. We’ll set up camp and get lunch ready while we wait for Arthur to wake up.”

Merlin nodded and sank to the ground beside Arthur, just realizing exactly how tired he was. That was more magic than he had ever used before, and it was absolutely pure and instinctual. He could still feel it humming inside him, though it had ceased fighting for escape now that Arthur’s life was no longer in danger. His eyelids began drooping and Merlin lay down and curled up on his side, falling asleep in minutes.

 

Leon and Gwaine watched Merlin from a distance as he curled into a ball at Arthur’s side. They both smiled fondly, though their minds were still reeling at the revelation and the incredible demonstration of Merlin’s hidden power.

“I had no idea,” Gwaine said quietly.

“None of us did,” Leon assured him. “Never would’ve guessed it of him.”

“I always knew there was more to him than meets the eye, but I have to say that I did not see this coming. At least, not this much. That was amazing, whatever it was. That was a mortal wound, I saw it. Arthur was literally ripped open; there was no way he could’ve survived that. But Merlin set it all right again. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Leon nodded, his respect for Merlin growing every second as his understanding of his magic grew. Having grown up in Camelot under Uther’s rule, Leon knew very little about magic except that it was supposed to be evil. But now, looking down at Merlin’s small form and seeing Arthur alive and well with magic to thank for it, he found himself doubting everything he had ever been taught. How could magic be evil if Merlin had it? Merlin, of all people, was about as far from evil as it was possible to be. And if Merlin had magic and wasn’t evil, then obviously magic couldn’t possibly always be evil. Leon had always prided himself on being logical, and the logical conclusion to be drawn was that magic could be good. He smiled at the thought.

Then he heard whispers and mumbles from behind him and glanced over toward the other four knights. They, too, had grown up under Uther’s regime, and they didn’t know Merlin as well. They didn’t realize just how pure of heart that boy was, and they were obviously not at all comfortable with what they had just witnessed. Leon sighed.

“Gwaine, I’m going to talk to the others about Merlin,” he said. The other knight nodded.

“Good. Make them see sense. I swear, if any of them turns Merlin in…” Gwaine let the sentence trail off threateningly, sending a protective glance toward Merlin’s prone form. Leon clapped him on the shoulder and nodded in understanding of the unspoken warning.

Leon approached the other knights. Sirs Jarold, Paul, Willard, and Kay. All nobles, all younger than he. They were good knights and good men on the whole, decent swordsmen and brave fighters. He had respect for all of them and he had hope that they would understand and listen to what he had to say to them. They looked up when they heard his footsteps.

“How are you all?” he asked. “Feeling alright? No injuries?”

They shook their heads a bit reluctantly. Sir Willard glanced at the others before he said; “I had an injury. But it isn’t there anymore.”

“Well, you have Merlin to thank for that,” Leon said, smiling. Willard looked a little uncomfortable with that but nodded anyway. Paul, however, looked angry.

“Why haven’t you bound him? Or run him through?” he demanded. “He’s a sorcerer!” Leon gave him a hard look.

“Merlin saved the Crown Prince’s life, and you want to repay him by running him through?” he asked softly. “He healed a mortal wound, and several lesser ones, and you want to sentence him to death for his kindness?”

“He used magic, and magic is against the law,” Paul insisted. “Magic is evil, and those who practice it cannot be trusted.” Leon gave him a hard look.

“Do you know Merlin?” he asked after a lengthy and tense pause. Paul looked confused. “Do you know him as a person? Have you spent time with him? Because I have, and I know for a fact that Merlin is one of the nicest, kindest, most compassionate people I have ever met. He is absolutely self-sacrificing, ridiculously brave, and loyal to a fault. He has been by Arthur’s side for years now. If he was evil, if he was plotting against the crown, don’t you think he would’ve done something by now? Arthur could’ve been dead years ago. But he’s still alive, thanks to Merlin. Merlin, who outed himself as a sorcerer in front of people like you who would undoubtedly turn him in just so that he could save Arthur’s life. Does that sound like an evil sorcerer to you? Because it doesn’t to me. It sounds like a true and loyal friend who would do anything to protect those he cares about.”

All four knights looked a little stunned. Leon thought Paul might even look a little abashed. Willard looked over toward Merlin. Leon followed his gaze and saw that Merlin now had his head pillowed on Arthur’s shoulder, no doubt to reassure himself that his prince was still alive, a slight smile on his face. The sight made Leon smile too. He turned back to the younger knights, his face serious again.

“I know this is a lot to ask of you,” he said. “I know this is technically breaking the law. But I would ask that you not tell anyone of Merlin’s magic. He is a good man, and a great friend. He saved Arthur’s life, and I’m sure he would save all of ours in a heartbeat. We, as knights who have sworn to protect and serve Arthur, owe his life to Merlin. And therefore I beg you to stay silent, for his sake.”

Willard nodded, looking convinced. Jarold and Kay nodded with a little less fortitude, but Leon knew they were honorable men and would not renege on a promise like this. Paul was still skeptical. Leon sighed heavily.

“Paul, if you still doubt him, talk to Merlin when he wakes up. If anyone can prove to you that magic isn’t evil, it’ll be him.” With that, Leon left the younger knights to go assist Percival with the restless horses.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin was shaken awake by Gwaine a half hour or so after he had fallen asleep and immediately had a bowl of stew pressed into his hands. They all ate fairly quickly, wanting to be out of the bandit-infested area as soon as possible—eating while surrounded by corpses is not exactly the most comfortable of experiences. Having eaten and washed their bowls and repacked the horses, Merlin turned to wake Arthur.

He gave him a little shake and, as soon as his hands touched Arthur’s skin, his eyes flew open again. Just like before, they glowed golden. Merlin panicked, at a loss as to what that meant, and immediately whispered, “ _Swefe nu!_ ” Arthur’s eyes flickered closed again and he began to snore lightly. Merlin bit his lip.

“Leon, he probably won’t wake again until we get back to Camelot,” he said, leaving out the little detail that the slumber was now magically-induced. “And I don’t want to wake him up with magic until I have Gaius there to make sure I did everything right. It could cause more harm than good to wake him up now.” That part was true. Merlin wasn’t sure whether Arthur had been conscious enough to realize what had saved him, that it had been magic, or that it had been Merlin casting it. Waking him up now only to have him attack Merlin for sorcery would be a very bad thing indeed. Leon nodded.

“Alright. We’ll strap him to his horse and you can take him to Gaius and have him checked out when we get back.” Merlin nodded. He allowed Percival and Gwaine to manhandle Arthur into his saddle and helped to tie him to it so he wouldn’t fall off. As he was pulling the last strap tight, he felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned to see one of the younger knights, he thought his name might be William. Something with a “W.”

“Yes?” he asked politely, trying to mask his nervousness. The knight took a deep breath.

“I just wanted to let you know that I intend to keep your secret,” he said firmly. Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise, then smiled broadly at him.

“Thank you,” he said. “That really means a lot. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“I’ve always been told that magic is evil, but what you did was anything but. You saved a life, and I can’t fault you for that. My name’s Willard, by the way.” Willard held out his hand and Merlin took it, beaming.

“Merlin. Thank you, again, really.”

“Don’t mention it.” Willard squeezed his shoulder and moved off to mount his own horse. Another figure caught his eye and he saw another of the knights scowling at him. Paul, he remembered. Obviously, he wasn’t so keen on keeping quiet. He could be a problem. Worrying his lower lip again, Merlin turned to his own horse to make sure his saddle bags were in order. When he turned back again Paul was directly behind him. He started a bit and then offered him a tentative smile, trying to look distinctly nonthreatening.

“Why did you do that?” Paul demanded.  Confused, Merlin waited for elaboration. “Why did you save him? He’s a Pendragon and you’re a sorcerer. What could you possibly have to gain by letting him live?”

“Gain? What would I have to gain by letting him die?” Merlin countered. “Arthur’s a good man, and he will be a great king someday. I know he is no friend to magic, but I also know that it’s because his father brought him up that way. I cannot blame Arthur for the sins of his father. I have faith that Arthur can still be convinced that magic isn’t evil. Because it’s not. But even if he never comes to accept me, that doesn’t mean I want him dead. More than anything, I saved Arthur because he is my friend and I didn’t want him to die. I had the ability to save him, so I did, even though I knew I was risking my own life by doing so. I understand that you distrust magic, and I understand why. But I just want you to know that I am not your enemy. Everything I do and everything I have ever done has been for Arthur and for Camelot.”

Merlin could see that none of this had been what Paul had expected to hear. He appeared taken aback at not only what Merlin had said, but _how_ he had said it, the sincerity and openness in his voice. When Merlin didn’t continue, Paul shook himself a little, frowning less in anger and mistrust now than in confusion. He gave Merlin a jerky nod and hurried off. He saw Willard try to engage him in conversation, but Paul shook his head and went back to his thoughts. Merlin hoped he had gotten through to him. He really didn’t want to be burned at the stake because an upstart knight wanted to get in good with Uther.

Eventually, all the knights and Merlin were mounted and ready to go. They rode off for Camelot, Arthur’s prone form leaning across his horse’s neck. Merlin and Elyan rode on either side of him, ready to steady him if he began to fall. It took them a few hours to get back to Camelot and the time passed mostly in companionable silence. Paul was still watching Merlin warily, but Willard seemed to have warmed up to him considerably. Willard’s attitude was working wonders on Jarold and Kay, who were now looking more curious than afraid. Merlin’s spirits were relatively high considering he had just seen his best friend eviscerated and exposed his deepest and most closely guarded secret to nine people in the process of saving him.

They rode into Camelot with the sun low in the sky. They were met in the courtyard by a guard requesting that Arthur report to his father. Merlin stammered that Arthur had had a nasty knock on the head and would need to see Gaius before anything else. The guard nodded and sped off to relay the message to Uther. Gwaine raised an eye at Merlin’s story.

“I really do need to get him to Gaius to see if he’s been healed properly,” Merlin explained, “but he doesn’t appear to have been injured at all. I can’t very well tell Uther what _really_ happened, can I?” And, he added to himself, he doubted it would be a good idea to have anyone else around when he woke Arthur up, if the golden eyes on the last two instances meant what he thought they might.

Percival and Gwaine carried Arthur to Gaius’ chambers and laid him down on the bed. Gaius raised an eyebrow, knowing from Merlin’s face that something was not normal, but waited for the knights to leave before he turned his ward for an explanation.

“The knights know I have magic,” he blurted out, seeing no need to skirt around the situation. Gaius’ eyes widened comically and Merlin rushed to expound upon his statement. “We were attacked by bandits on the hunting trip, and Arthur was mortally wounded, I mean _really_ mortally wounded, as in intestines-falling-out-of-his-body-mortally-wounded, and I knew he couldn’t possibly survive no matter what you did to try to save him, so I knew the only option I had was magic, and I don’t really know what I did, but I put my hands on his forehead and his chest and I just sort of flooded him with magic and it healed him but it also sent out this big wave of light and magic and killed all the rest of the bandits and healed the other knights and knocked over a bunch of trees, and then I turned around and all the knights were staring at me and I was absolutely terrified, I thought they were going to kill me, but then Gwaine just hugged me and Leon and Percival and Elyan all accepted me, and the other knights say they won’t tell anyone either, so now I’m just worried about Arthur.”

Gaius stared at him blankly for a moment, obviously waiting to see if there was anything else forthcoming. When it was obvious that he had finished, he nodded slowly.

“Arthur was injured and you used magic to save him?”

“Yes.”

“And the knights saw you do this?”

“Yes.”

“And they have agreed not to turn you in?”

“Most of them, yes.” Gaius closed his eyes for a moment at this, probably to pray for patience. Then he turned to Arthur.

“He has not woken up since you healed him?” Merlin hesitated.

“Well…he did. I woke him up about a half hour after, when we were going to start riding back, but I put him back to sleep.”

“Was he in pain?”

“No. Well, I don’t think so, at least. It’s just that…When I woke him up, his eyes were gold.” The effect of this statement on Gaius was profound. He paled alarmingly and looked at the prince with his mouth agape, obviously intensely shaken. He looked back at Merlin, his gaze piercing and intense.

“You are sure of this?” he asked gravely.

“They were like that when I finished the spell too. I broke the connection and his eyes flew open and they were gold. Then he fell asleep, and when I woke him up they did the same thing. I didn’t know what it meant or what to do, so I just put him back to sleep and told everyone he needed sleep to heal properly. What does it mean, Gaius? It can’t possibly mean what it looks like,” Merlin said, more in an effort to convince himself than anything else.

“We won’t really know until we wake him up, will we?” Gaius took a seat on one side of Arthur’s cot and Merlin reluctantly sat on his other side. With a nervous glance at his guardian, Merlin held a hand out over Arthur and said, “Ic acwoce the.”

Like the last two times, Arthur’s eyes were flashing gold when they opened then faded back to their normal blue. He appeared disoriented and confused until he spotted Merlin. Immediately his eyes flashed again and Merlin was forced backward off his chair, narrowly avoiding a collision with a heavily loaded bench, and Arthur launched himself off the cot toward the other side of the room, almost knocking Gaius over as well. Arthur’s face contorted with rage and no small amount of fear.

“Sorcerer!” he spat at Merlin. The servant flinched at the ice in his tone, as well as the pain shooting up his body from hitting the floor so hard. He clambered carefully to his feet and took a tentative step toward his master.

“Yes, Arthur,” he admitted. “Do you remember what happened? I he—”

“You used _magic_!” he snarled, and his eyes flashed dangerously. He didn’t quite seem to notice the wind beginning to pick up around him, blowing papers off of Gaius’ tables, or the beakers and jars beginning to rattle and quake on the bench next to him, but Merlin did.

“Arthur, you have to calm down,” he said gently.

“No, Merlin, _you used magic!_ ” Arthur bellowed, and the wind practically howled around him, almost strong enough to blow Merlin off his feet.

“Arthur, look what you’re doing right now!” he shouted back. “None of this is my doing, this is all you! You just need to calm down,” he said, holding out a hand, but this seemed to be the wrong thing to do. Arthur jerked backward instinctively, trying to put as much space between him and Merlin as possible, and in doing so rammed into the table behind him. A large beaker of some sort of liquid was knocked off the side, but it froze in midair as Arthur reached for it on reflex. Crying out in shock and confusion, Arthur stumbled away from it and the beaker smashed on the floor, liquid spraying everywhere. When he turned around, he found himself almost face to face with Merlin and Merlin was again forced backward by an invisible force. Arthur was beginning to shake, his breath coming in short and painful gasps. As his panic increased, so did the chaos in the room. Gaius had long ago taken shelter behind the table on the far side of the room, but Merlin fought his way toward Arthur, he had sunk to the floor on his knees and was clasping his head.

“Look at me,” Merlin insisted. He dropped to his knees in front of Arthur and grasped his wrists to pull his hands away from his head. “Arthur, look at me.” He did, and he looked so lost and so scared and so confused that Merlin’s heart ached for him. Merlin’s touched seemed to do him some good. Merlin could feel a sort of echo of their earlier connection, a sort of exchange of energies, a warmth and calmness spreading through them. Arthur’s breathing began to steady as he held Merlin’s level gaze, reassuring blue eyes meeting newly minted gold.


	4. Chapter 4

Again, Merlin didn't know how long the connection lasted. Eventually the unnatural wind in the room stopped blowing and the beakers settled down. Arthur's breathing slowed and evened out and the gold faded from his eyes, leaving them bright with unshed tears but their normal light blue color. Merlin wanted to pull Arthur to him, hug him and comfort him, but he knew Arthur usually didn't do well with acts of affection or displays of emotion, so he settled for just holding his wrists, making sure Arthur knew he was there. Finally, Arthur pulled a hand away and wiped at his face with his sleeve, breaking the eye contact and the moment.

"Merlin, what the hell is going on?" he asked, his voice rough. Merlin jumped up to get him a glass of water to avoid answering. " _Mer_ lin. Why didn't you tell me you were a…a sorcerer?" Merlin flinched at this. He sounded less angry now and much more hurt, betrayed.

"I wanted to," he said honestly. "But I didn't want to put you in a position where you needed to lie to your father for me. I may have no love for Uther, but he's still your father and I know you love him dearly. And," he added, "I wasn't sure exactly how you'd react. In the beginning, I knew you'd have me executed. Later I knew you may not  _want_  to have me killed, but your sense of duty and your loyalty to your father would dictate that I had to be. Recently, I've considered telling you, but I didn't want to come between you and your father."

Arthur was pacing back and forth through the middle of the room, trying to avoid stepping on papers. Frowning, Merlin waved his hand over the mess, his eyes glowing gold, and the papers all flew back to their original stacks. Arthur whirled around to stare at Merlin, who looked steadily back at him. Arthur looked away quickly and went back to pacing.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"You were injured," Merlin supplied. "Badly. There was no chance you would've survived. Magic was the only way to save you, and I knew that."

"You used a spell to heal me?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?" he asked, stopping to look at him. "What do you mean, 'sort of'?" Merlin shifted uncomfortably, not really sure how to explain.

"Well…my magic is sort of different than most kinds of magic," he began uncertainly, not really wanting to go into the details of the whole "Emrys" thing right then. "I don't always need spells to do what I want to do, and sometimes my magic acts of its own accord. It was sort of instinctual, I guess. I didn't use a spell. I just sort of flooded you with magic and hoped it would work. And it did work, but…"

"…but?" Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, and he shifted uncomfortably. Gaius answered for him.

"He has somehow managed to gift you his magic."

Arthur turned to stare at Gaius now, eyes bugging out of their sockets.

"He  _what?_ "

"I believe Merlin infused your body, mind and soul with magic. So much so that it has become a part of you," he explained, coming forward to peer at him curiously.

"How is that possible?" Arthur asked, sounding thunderstruck.

"I don't know. It's certainly unprecedented, but it's the only explanation. Judging by the mess you made of my rooms, you have magic now."

"I don't…I can't have…I'm not a sorcerer, Gaius!" Arthur insisted.

"No, you're a warlock," Merlin put in. At Arthur's baffled look, he continued. "A sorcerer is someone who chooses to acquire and learn magic, invoking it from the powers of the Old Religion. A warlock is someone who comes by their powers naturally, developing them involuntarily usually in their teens or twenties, but sometimes earlier or later. Not everyone with magic chose to be that way."

"You could hardly say that I came by these powers naturally,  _Mer_ lin," Arthur scoffed.

"Maybe not, but you didn't learn them, and you aren't borrowing them from the spirits of the Old Religion. You got them from me."

"Which are you?" Arthur asked.

"I'm a warlock," Merlin said. "I was born with magic."

"When did you develop your powers?"

Merlin shook his head.

"When I say I was born with magic, I mean it. I was able to move objects with my mind before I could talk."

"Is that…normal?" Arthur asked, displaying his complete ignorance of all things magical.

"Not at all."

"Merlin is unprecedented in many ways," Gaius said. "He is the only person in history to have exhibited signs of magic from birth. He is the only person to have his magic act independently, without his control and direction. He is the only person to have ever created another warlock." Arthur saw that Merlin looked incredible discomfited by Gaius' little speech, as if he didn't want Arthur to know these things.

"And why is that?" Arthur asked Gaius, keeping his eyes on Merlin.

"That," Merlin cut in quickly, "is a story for another time. Right now we need to be figuring out what we're going to tell your father." Arthur groaned and sank onto the stool vacated by Gaius, head in his hands.

"My father," he muttered darkly. "Well, we obviously can't tell him the truth. I highly doubt he'd have me executed, but it still couldn't possibly end well. What did you tell the knights?" Merlin hesitated before answering and Arthur looked up at him.

"I didn't really have to tell them anything," he said. "They saw it happen."

"You healed me in front of all the knights?" he asked incredulously. "Are you insane?"

"Your intestines were on the ground, Arthur, spilling out between your fingers. I didn't really have the option of moving you to a more discreet location," Merlin snapped back. "I told you, my magic mostly acted on its own. And I've talked to the knights. Gwaine, Leon, Elyan and Percival all accepted it right away. Leon talked to the other four and most of them said they would keep quiet as well. Sir Paul might be a problem, but I think I got through to him."

"I sure hope so, Merlin," Arthur said darkly. "As angry as I am that you kept this from me for so long, I would really prefer not to watch you burn at the stake." Merlin grinned cheekily at him for a moment. "What?"

"You just admitted that you like me," Merlin accused.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin," Arthur scoffed.

"You do, just admit it!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about and I admit to nothing."

"You never admit to anything, you prat."

"I'm a prince; I don't  _have_  to, idiot."

"Boys, this really isn't the time for your bickering," Gaius interjected, chuckling lightly. "We need to determine our story. Uther will need to know something soon. He was told that you took a blow to the head in the fight, Arthur, and that's why you came here before reporting to him."

"We need to find a reason to sequester you for a few days," Merlin said.

"Wow, that was a big word, Merlin. Sure you know what it means?" Glare. "Okay, why?"

"If these powers last, you're going to have to learn how to use them. Just like any warlock coming into his abilities, your magic is tied to your emotions right now. It's unpredictable. It can burst out of you at any time. You need to stay away from people who aren't friendly with magic or you'll give yourself away. You need to have as little contact with your father as possible, and when you see him you have to  _remain calm_."

"Merlin, I've been training as a diplomat since birth, I think I know how to keep a lid on things," Arthur assured him.

"Not showing emotions and not feeling them are different things, Arthur, and they will affect your magic differently," Merlin insisted. "Believe me, I know. Luckily, you have  _my magic_  so I know exactly what you're feeling and what's happening to you. You need to trust me. You can't just keep your face blank and hope nothing happens. If you start feeling angry, your magic will react. You legitimately have to stay calm and focused."

"Around my father?"

"I didn't say it was going to be easy."

"So how ill do I have to be to be confined to my rooms for a few days, Gaius?"

"I'll say that your head injury is more severe than we originally thought. Merlin, could you use magic to create the illusion of a serious contusion?" Merlin's brow furrowed in thought, then he ran up to his room and came back with a book.

"There might be something in here," he muttered. "If not, I can always make up a spell. I seem to have a knack for that." He threw a mischievous grin at Gaius who looked back disapprovingly, but still with that undercurrent of fondness and appreciation. "If it really comes down to it, we can ask Gwen if she can do some fancy makeup work."

"Uther trusts my word," Gaius said. "I can convince him that you need serious rest and should be disturbed as little as possible. You will still have to speak to him at some point, Arthur, but we should be able to keep it short and superficial."

"Aha!" Merlin shouted, poking a page in his book rather violently. "This should work. Come here, Arthur, and sit still." Arthur moved to sit on the bench beside his manservant, watching him warily. "Oh, don't look so terrified, prat. I'm  _good_  at this, remember?" Arthur scoffed, but actually did feel a bit reassured. Merlin took a deep breath and held a hand out over the right side of Arthur's head. He mumbled a stream of words Arthur didn't understand and opened his eyes, which were immediately flooded with a rush of molten gold. A strong jolting sensation ran through Arthur's stomach, as if something inside him felt Merlin's magic and was drawn to it. When the gold faded, Merlin smiled, examining his handiwork.

"Very good, Merlin," Gaius said, nodding in satisfaction. He pulled Arthur to his feet to examine him himself. "We'll wrap it and make it look legitimate, then we'll go see your father. Remember, be calm."

"No time like the present, I suppose," he sighed. His father. The king. Uther Pendragon. The bane of all those with magic. He could handle this. Right?

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO LATE. I'M SORRY.
> 
> I've been moving apartments and having internet connectivity issues and my computer was completely disassembled for transport and the router stopped working and it was a bit of a mess and I haven't had internet access for like five days. So here's the chapter, several days late. Don't hate me.
> 
> PS. I realized that I may have forgotten to point out the discrepency in the timeline before now. This story takes place supposedly during Series 3, when Morgana is still in Camelot but plotting with Morgause in secret. But I already have Gwaine and the rest in Camelot as knights, which doesn't happen until the end of Series 3 when Morgana and Morgause's immortal army has taken over, after which Morgana is ousted as a traitor forced to flee. So Morgana and the knights do not overlap in the show. BUT, for the sake of this story, I ask that you overlook this little fact and just pretend that they do. So Morgana is still playing the faithful ward and plotting their downfall, but Gwaine and Percival and Elyan (and Lancelot, he'll show up, I promise) are all already knights. K? K.

 

"Arthur!" Uther rushed forward to grasp his son by the arms, his brow furrowed in concern at the sight of the bandages wrapped around his head. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, father," Arthur assured him. Then, like he had planned with Gaius, he swayed where he stood, letting his eyes slide out of focus for a moment, and Merlin stepped forward to support him. "Really, I'm fine."

"Look at you, Arthur, you can hardly stand," Uther said, a real concern in his voice that Arthur rarely heard there. "Gaius, what's wrong?"

"The blow to his head seems to have cracked his skull in several places," Gaius said gravely. "It should heal fine in time, but the prince should really keep still and avoid all strenuous activities for at least a week, maybe two if he insists on getting out of bed as I'm sure he will." He added the last with a little smirk, poking fun at the prince's independent nature and need to keep himself busy.

"Of course, Gaius," Uther said hurriedly. "Arthur, you are to stay in your chambers until Gaius says otherwise."

"But father—"

"You," Uther said, pointing at Merlin, who raised his eyebrows to show he was listening, "make sure he stays put." A mischievous grin slid onto Merlin's face.

"It'd be my pleasure, sire," he said, sounding immensely pleased with how this had turned out.

"Before you go rest, I need to know what happened," Uther said to Arthur again.

"We were attacked by bandits," he responded. "They were quite determined; each and every one fought to his death. They were not overly skilled, though. I believe mine was the only injury."

"In his defense, it was a four-on-one fight with a sneak attack from behind," Merlin put in helpfully. He ducked his head obsequiously when Uther shot him a look for interrupting.

"Alright, Arthur. You go rest now." Uther clapped his hand on Arthur's shoulder and he allowed his knees to buckle, leaning so heavily on Merlin that the scrawny man had trouble keeping them both on their feet. Arthur fought to hide his smirk. He nodded slowly and allowed Merlin and Gaius to lead him out of the room. Once out in the corridor, he stood on his own again and beamed at them.

"That went well," he said cheerily. Merlin rolled his eyes at the prince's smugness, rubbing his shoulder in irritation.

"Quite smirking like that; you're supposed to be injured and in pain," he reminded him. Arthur frowned at him, though whether in accordance with his act or in actual annoyance Merlin wasn't sure, and tried to look ill. They had just turned a corner when they saw Morgana walking toward them. She looked surprised at seeing them, especially at the bandages on Arthur's head. She made a show of hurrying toward them in concern.

"Arthur, what happened?" she asked, putting a hand on his arm. Arthur gasped as he felt a deep coldness penetrate him, a sort of malevolence radiating through him from where Morgana touched him. His stumble was genuine this time and Merlin had to work to hold him up again.

"The hunting party was attacked by bandits," Merlin said stiffly. "He was injured." Arthur did not miss the sharp, cold look Morgana sent at him. Then her face morphed back into one of innocent concern, the quickness and completeness of the change rather unsettling.

"Oh, you poor thing. I hope it's nothing too serious. Let me know if you need anything, Arthur." With another overly-sympathetic look, she swept off down the corridor. Merlin stared after her with a surprisingly shuttered look on his face. Shaking his head to clear the strange fog from it, Arthur pushed himself back onto his feet, rubbing his head for a reason completely unrelated to his supposed injury.

"What was that?" he asked in confusion and alarm.

"What was what?" Merlin asked absently without taking his eyes from Morgana's retreating back.

"That…that  _feeling_!" he said, shuddering as he remembered it. Merlin looked at him now, brow furrowed.

"What sort of feeling? Why did you collapse like that?" he asked, sounding wary.

"It was like… When she touched my arm, I felt cold. So cold, like I was flooded with ice. It just felt… _evil_. I've never felt anything like that before. What in the world was that?" he asked, his voice rising as he struggled to comprehend. Merlin looked surprised for a moment. Then his brow furrowed again, eyes unfocused, before he nodded.

"I guess, if you have _my_  magic now, it's not surprising that you'd sense it," he mumbled.

"Sense  _what_?" he asked, getting angry now. He noticed that Gaius was looking a little confused by the exchange too, as well as curious.

"Her magic," Merlin said bluntly. Arthur almost collapsed again right then. Seeing the faint look on his master's face, Merlin took hold of Arthur's arm and began steering him toward his chambers. "This is a conversation to be had in private, I believe." Arthur allowed himself to be led to his chambers and deposited heavily on his bed. Gaius closed the door gently and lowered himself into a chair by the breakfast table. Merlin paced the room for a moment, looking nervous. Suddenly he whipped around to face Arthur, his face set.

"I don't know how you'll take this," he said. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I already told you that Morgana has magic. Most magic-users can't sense others' magic, but my— _our—_ magic is different from the norm. I, and now you, can feel when someone has a significant amount of magic. Usually this only happens when there's contact, like when she touched your arm, but it depends on how powerful the sorcerer is. And maybe on how attuned you are to it, although considering the only two to judge this off of are  _us_ , there's really no way of knowing what it is… Maybe I only gave you a limited amount of my magic and I still have a good deal more than you, and that's why I'm more sensitive to it. I don't know. But I can feel her magic from a few yards off. Whatever."

"Why did it feel that way?" Arthur asked, cutting off his servant's ramblings. "So cold and dark?" Merlin's face hardened considerably and he started pacing again.

"She isn't what she claims to be, Arthur," he said. Arthur was rather taken aback by the harshness of his normally light-hearted and forgiving servant. "She has no love for Camelot. I know she claims to have seen the error of her ways, but she's lying. She's in league with Morgause and has been since before she was taken. She came back just so that she could work from the inside to take Uther down. She wants to bring magic back to the land, but she's willing to destroy the kingdom to make it happen."

Arthur gaped at him, wanting to defend Morgana, wanting to deny the outrageous accusations being leveled against his surrogate sister, but something inside him was telling him it was true. The warmth in his chest, which he suspected was the magic he now miraculously possessed, hummed its consensus with Merlin's words. He remembered the malignant aura she had projected and the way his own magic had shrunk away from it. As soon as he allowed himself to accept the possibility that Morgana could be working against his father, against  _him_  and his kingdom, he felt the anger rearing up in him.

How dare she, after everything they had done for her? How  _dare_  she turn her back on them in such a way? They who had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go, who had treated her like one of their own, who had loved her like family and striven to make her feel welcome and accepted! Apparently his face had begun to darken in his rage because Merlin looked alarmed and began talking very fast again.

"I know it seems crazy, Arthur, but you have to believe me. Morgana has magic, you've felt it yourself, there's no denying that. You know I wouldn't lie to you—well, not about something like this, anyway. I know she made a big show of being repentant and scared and all of that when she got back, but it's all an act, she's—" Arthur realized then that Merlin was defending his accusations, thinking the anger was directed towards him on Morgana's behalf.

"No, Merlin, I believe you," he said quietly, holding up a hand for silence. Merlin fell silent immediately, mouth agape. He looked quite taken aback.

"Really?" he questioned. Arthur nodded. "Wow. You took that a lot better than I thought you would."

"After feeling that magic, how could I  _not_  believe you?" Arthur responded. He shuddered at the very thought of it. "There's no denying the negativity of that magic. I'll have to steer clear of her for a while. I can't risk my magic going haywire again when it comes into contact with hers." Merlin was still gaping at him.

"That is so strange," he muttered.

"What is?"

"Hearing the words 'my magic' coming out of  _your_  mouth," he said. "Absolutely bizarre. Practically surreal. I'm still not a hundred percent sure that I'm not actually dreaming this. Although, I don't know if my subconscious is creative enough to think up something like this. I may have a vivid imagination, but this far exceeds any scenario I've ever thought up before."

"This is strange for  _you_?" Arthur asked, gaping right back. He let out a sharp laugh. "Think how weird this is for  _me_! This morning, I was a prince and you were my servant. We were both normal, law-abiding citizens of Camelot going out for a hunt with the knights. I get mortally wounded and come  _back_  to Camelot as a bloody  _warlock_  to find that my surrogate sister  _also_  has magic and is actually plotting against us. This has been a really great day so far, very enlightening. Any other secrets I should know about, Merlin? Might as well get them all out in the open now."

"That you should know about now? No," Merlin said brusquely. "Some secrets should probably wait until after you have a firm grip on your powers. Don't want you blowing up the castle." Arthur dropped his head into his hands.

"Fabulous," he said. "So you have more secrets, and ones that will make me incredibly angry. Just wonderful. I'll just stew that over for the next week until you see fit to fill me in, shall I?"

"Yes, you shall."

"What am I going to be  _doing_  for the next week or two that I'm locked in this room, Gaius?" Arthur asked, hoping he would not just be sitting around with only Merlin for company; he was a man of action and sitting still for long was nearly unbearable.

"You will need to begin practicing with your magic," Gaius said. "Learning to control it will take time and practice. Merlin can be your teacher." Merlin looked surprised, a bit frightened, and more than a little smug about this. Arthur frowned; he really didn't fancy having  _Merlin_  teach him anything.

"Why do I have to teach him?" Merlin asked. " _You_  teach him, Gaius, you taught me!"

"You didn't need to be taught," Gaius said gently. "You had already been working with your powers for many years, Merlin. You had a firm grip on your abilities. All you needed was a book of spells and some guidance. Arthur, however, will need more than that if he is to come to terms with his new abilities. I wouldn't have been able to teach you if I had needed to; your magic is so fundamentally different from mine, I wouldn't have known where to begin. But since Arthur has your power, your magic, there is no one better suited to teach him." Merlin looked pensive for a moment, as if thinking over the merits of Gaius' argument.

"Alright," he said begrudgingly. "I guess I can try to teach him."

"You mean I have to spend all day letting him boss me around?" Arthur asked Gaius indignantly, jerking a thumb at Merlin who smirked at him.

"Welcome to my life, Arthur. That's what I've done every day since I came to this city," he reminded him. "But now we're in my area of expertise and  _you_  need to listen to  _me_."

Arthur groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. I do not, in fact, own Merlin. My life would be very different if I did. I will not be repeating this disclaimer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting two chapters at once to make up for being so late on the last update.

Arthur awoke the next morning and at first thought it might all have been a dream. He could hear the shuffling and humming of Merlin cleaning his room and it was just so normal and routine that he had trouble believing what he thought he remembered from the day before. That is, until he felt a sort of warmth welling up in his chest, a ball of energy that had never been there before. It felt wonderful, actually, like sinking into a hot bath at the end of a long day. He sat up very quickly, startling Merlin, who was just about to open the curtains and wake him up.

"Arthur!" he yelped, stumbling backward into the table. The platter that held Arthur's breakfast went flying off the other side and, before Merlin could even reach for it, it had frozen in place, suspended in midair. Arthur stared at it for a moment before realizing that  _he_  had been the one to stop its fall. Merlin quickly waved his hand at the food, eyes blazing, and it flew back onto the platter and returned neatly to the table where it belonged. "And  _that_ ," he said, "is why you're confined to your rooms for the next week."

"Do you always feel like this?" Arthur asked, putting a hand on his chest. Merlin, in the process of opening the curtains to let in the morning sunlight, didn't see.

"Feel like what?" he asked absentmindedly.

"Like you've got a furnace in your chest," Arthur said. Merlin stopped, looking contemplative for a moment.

"Hm. Now that you mention it, I guess I do."

"You guess?"

"It's just how I've always felt," he explained. "I've never been without it. That's your magic you're feeling. You'll probably have to get used to it always being there, warming you from the inside out. That can come in really handy when it's cold out, I'll tell you that much." He grinned at Arthur and continued tidying up the room. Arthur got up and stretched, feeling a slight tenderness in his stomach—presumably from where he had been gutted and then knitted back together again. He sat down to his breakfast bare-chested, ignoring Merlin's puttering completely. When he was finished, he stood up expectantly.

"Get my clothes, Merlin, I'm going out," he said.

"No, you're not," Merlin said immediately.

"Excuse me?" Arthur exclaimed indignantly. "I'm the one who makes the decisions around here,  _Mer_ lin, and you're the one who does whatever I tell you, remember? That's how the whole 'master-and-servant' relationship works. Now get my clothes."

"You can't go out, Arthur," Merlin insisted, making no move. "You're confined to your rooms, remember? Your father told me to keep you here, and don't think I won't use extreme measures to do so."

"Are you threatening me, Merlin?"

"It's not a threat, it's a promise." He grinned cheekily and ducked the goblet Arthur threw at his head. As soon as his master turned around, fully intending to get his own clothes if his servant insisted on being completely unhelpful, Merlin quietly summoned the discarded goblet to him. "Arthur!" he cried and lobbed the goblet back at him. Arthur turned on the spot and saw the cup flying toward him. His eyes flashed and the goblet stopped an inch from his nose and hung there. He stared at it, his eyes crossing comically, and then released the magic and caught it as it fell. "Do you really need more reason than that to not go out in public just yet?" Merlin asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking triumphantly.

"Okay, fine," Arthur groused, slumping back down into his seat. "But what the hell am I supposed to do in here all day, anyway?"

"I get to teach you magic," Merlin said, sounding both nervous and excited. He tossed one of his master's tunics onto his head, ignoring his grumbling about how useless a servant he was, and sat across the table from him. Arthur struggled his way into his shirt and then turned to face Merlin fully, feeling his own nervousness begin to stir up his full stomach.

"Now what?" he asked. Merlin frowned; apparently he hadn't thought this far. Then his face split into a large grin and he clapped his hands together.

"Ooh! Let's start with something simple and useful," he said. "Creating fire."

"Creating fire is a simple spell?" Arthur asked disbelievingly; it seemed like creating anything out of nothing would've been difficult, but what did he know about magic?

"One of the simplest, really," Merlin said, his eyes lighting up in a completely non-magical way as he got the chance to actually talk about and explain magic to someone who was listening and not trying to kill him. "With most spells, you have to manipulate your magic to affect something in the world, like an object you want to move. You have to force your will upon an object that may or may not have a will of its own. That takes a good deal of energy. But fire is almost completely made of energy. To create fire, you just have to release your magic and let it take the form of a flame. You don't need to expend any real effort because you're not having to use your magic _on_  anything, does that make sense?" Arthur thought about it for a minute before nodding slowly. At least, he  _thought_  it made sense.

"So how do I do this?"

"Hold your hand out like this." Merlin held out his right hand, palm up, at chest height. Arthur copied him. "Now close your eyes." Arthur hesitated, then did as the warlock instructed, feeling a little ridiculous in the pose. "Now, remember that ball of warmth from this morning? Reach for it. That's the magic you need to tap into to perform any sort of spell. Search around inside yourself until you find that magic and draw on it."

"How do I do that?" Arthur asked confusedly without opening his eyes.

"As soon as you find it, let it fill you up. The magic wants to be used," he explained. "It shouldn't take much to get it to cooperate with you. Find it and let it fill your entire body until you can feel it in your very skin."

So Arthur turned his mind inward, trying awkwardly to find what Merlin was describing. It took him a moment to isolate the pulsing heat in his chest, but it leapt in recognition when his mind touched it. Almost immediately it began to writhe inside of him, spreading down into his stomach and flooding up his neck. The sensation was so strong and so overwhelming that it left Arthur gasping. Merlin was right, Arthur thought as he felt the magic humming and skipping along his skin, practically begging to be utilized. Merlin obviously noticed Arthur's reaction and assumed correctly that he had succeeded.

"Good," he said, and Arthur could hear his smile in his voice. "Now you're going to picture a flame, think of everything about it; the heat, the light, the smell, everything you can to make it real to you. Then you're going to say 'forbærnan.'" Arthur obeyed, picturing a campfire in his mind and making it as realistic as he possibly could. When he could see the sparks and the embers, smell the smoke, hear the crackling and popping, and feel the imaginary heat on his face, he opened his mouth tentatively.

"Fore-bear-non," he said. His magic twitched slightly, but nothing seemed to happen. He cracked open an eyelid and saw that his palm was empty. Discouraged, he pouted heavily, but Merlin just smiled at him.

"Pronunciation of the Old Language is the hardest part about magic," he said sympathetically. "At least, for me it is. Us, I guess. Our magic is so much more independent than most people's, so much more plentiful that we don't really have to work all that hard to do anything significant. If we can say it, we can do it, really. But that's easier said than done. Wait…" Merlin stopped and looked thoroughly confused. "That saying doesn't work there at all, does it? Huh. Whatever, you get the point. Try it again. Forbærnan."

Arthur closed his eyes again and reached for the magic. It came readily this time, filling him to the brim and making his heart race. He felt the pulse of it along his skin, making the hairs on his arms raise and crackle with static electricity. Recalling the image of the campfire, he tried again. "Fore-bare-nun." Still nothing.

"Closer," Merlin said encouragingly. "It's sort of a flip of the tongue on the 'r'. Don't let yourself get frustrated. One more time."

Taking a deep breath, Arthur said, "Forbærnan!" He felt a surge of power course down his arm and when he opened his eyes this time there was a small flame flickering in his palm. His heart leapt up at the sight, satisfaction and joy exploding through him. Unfortunately, his magic followed his heart and exploded with it. The egg-sized flame in his hand erupted into a mushroom cloud of fire and he and Merlin both toppled backward off their chairs to avoid being roasted. The shock of hitting the floor made Arthur loose his unfamiliar grip on the magic and the flame went out immediately. He stayed where he was for a moment, still feeling the aftershocks of his first intentional piece of magic.

Merlin pulled himself up, still grinning even after his near-death experience, and hurried around to pull Arthur to his feet. They beamed at each other for a moment.

"I did it," Arthur said breathlessly.

"You did it," Merlin agreed. "Your first spell. Congratulations." He held out his hand for Arthur to shake. Arthur, in a fit of good spirits and camaraderie, took it and then pulled Merlin in for a gruff one-armed hug. Merlin's smile was so wide it was making his face hurt, but he couldn't seem to get it off his face. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to convey all his pride through his eyes.

There was a knock on the door. Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin and looked to Merlin, an expression of terror on his face. Merlin had to stifle a laugh. He jerked his head at the bed and Arthur took the hint, climbing onto it and trying his best to look injured. He called for whoever it was to enter and the door opened to reveal a worried-looking Guinevere.

"Arthur," she said, rushing to his bedside. "I heard you were injured." Arthur shot a look at Merlin, who kept his face blank; he wasn't at all sure what Arthur was going to do. Torn, Arthur turned back to the maidservant who was tenderly stroking his hair away from his forehead.

"Er, yes," he said. "Bandits. Rather nasty head wound, but I should be fine in a few days." He smiled reassuringly at her even though his stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the lie he was telling her. She smiled back at him and leaned down to kiss him gently.

"Alright. Feel better." She patted his hand, turned to smile at Merlin, then left to go about her duties.

"Why didn't you tell her?" Merlin asked curiously.

"It's your secret as well," he said simply. "To tell mine would be to tell yours. And no one has the right to tell another man's secret." Merlin smiled at him, oddly touched. "Well," Arthur said brusquely, feeling there had been much too many touchy-feely moments between him and his servant as of late, "I may need to stay in this room, but you don't. Go polish my armor, get all that blood off from yesterday, sharpen my sword, get Elyan to repair my chainmail—he's really much better than the new blacksmith in the lower town—and make sure that Lancelot's got the new recruits up to scratch; he's had two days with them, so they better be able to hold their own by now." Merlin smirked and Arthur got the feeling he knew exactly what had caused Arthur's abrupt dismissal and lengthy list of chores.

"Of course, sire. You should practice with that spell while you're in here. Just make sure you lock the door; you can never be too careful in this place. You may the prince and people are supposed to knock, but you never know when there may be an emergency and someone will just barge right in. I would bring you my spellbook, but you don't know the Old Language yet, so I doubt you'd really get anything out of it."

Merlin left Arthur sitting in bed, frowning at all the precautions he now needed to take.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the irregularity of updates as of late. I'm still in the midst of moving and our internet provider is being less than helpful. As in actually doing harm when supposedly trying to help. Still no internet or cable. I may go insane before we get this resolved. I might just die.

Lancelot grunted and rolled his sore shoulder as he removed his helmet, smiling encouragingly at the would-be knight lying on his back on the ground across from him. The boy had gotten in a few good hits, but Lancelot had still gotten him off his feet in the end. He held out the hand not holding his sword and pulled the boy to his feet, wincing slightly at the protest of his bruised shoulder. After a pat on the back, the boy moved off the training field to remove his armor, much to Lancelot's relief; all he really wanted was to go collapse into bed and not move for a few days. Maybe have some ale. He wondered if Gwaine was back from the hunt yet. For some strange reason, Gwaine always came to mind whenever ale was mentioned.

Lancelot had wanted to go on the hunt with the rest of the knights, but Arthur had insisted that someone needed to stay behind to work with the new recruits, who would be facing Arthur in their last test toward knighthood in a few days' time. Normally it was Leon who trained the recruits, but Leon had just come off training the last batch and had asked Arthur if someone else could do it this time to give him a break. Arthur had chosen Lancelot, knowing that Gwaine would only take them all to the tavern, Percival wasn't good with public speaking—or any speaking at all, really—and Elyan was still adjusting to not being a blacksmith anymore. So Lancelot had stayed behind, yelling out stances and forms to the upstarts and sparring with person after person after person for the last two days. No wonder Leon had begged out of it; this was certainly exhausting.

He was just wiping off his forehead with his sleeve, wondering if he could get away with napping for the rest of the day, when he caught sight of Gwaine jogging toward him from across the field, dressed casually which meant he had been back from the hunt long enough to change, at least. Lancelot waved to him and waited for the other knight to reach him. He looked highly excited, like he was bursting to tell Lancelot something, and it was intriguing to say the least.

"Lancelot!" Gwaine called as soon as he was close enough to be heard.

"Yes, Gwaine?" he called back amusedly as he watched the other man trot toward him.

"Lancelot, you will never  _guess_  what happened on the hunt yesterday," Gwaine said as he reached him, leaning with his hands on his knees and panting slightly from the run over there. "And it will sure make you wish you had been there. I would've come told you yesterday as soon as we got back, but we had to see Uther and he held us for a lot longer than he normally would have." Lancelot quirked an eyebrow—usually it was Arthur who reported to his father about anything unusual in their outings—and gestured for him to continue, but Gwaine shook his head. "Not here. Let's go somewhere people won't overhear us."

Lancelot nodded slowly, suspicious now, and turned to tell the recruits that training was over for the day. They all scattered, more than happy not to have to face the formidable older warrior in combat again as they were all nursing bruises of their own from that day's round of sparring. Then Lancelot gestured for Gwaine to lead the way and they soon ended up in Gwaine's chambers on the lower level of the castle, where all the knights had barracks if they required them. He locked the door and turned to his friend, beaming conspiratorially.

"Merlin has  _magic_!" he hissed ecstatically. Lancelot's eyes widened and he gaped at him, but the surprise and shock were not for the reasons Gwaine thought. "I know, right?" he said fervently. "Who would've guessed that?! Merlin! Clumsy, bumbling, slightly-idiotic Merlin is a sorcerer!"

"What happened? Is he alright?" Lancelot demanded, taking a step forward and staring at him imploringly. Gwaine raised an eyebrow at his friend's uncharacteristic intensity, but obligingly told him the whole story. Lancelot just stared at him for moment.

"So all of you know now?" he asked. "Even Arthur?"

"Well, I don't know if Arthur really knows," Gwaine admitted. "He may or may not have been conscious enough to recognize that magic saved him, or that it was Merlin using it. And he didn't wake up before they took him to Gaius. I expect Merlin will have woken him up when they got there, to make sure he's been healed properly and everything, and I don't fancy that the conversation will go well from there."

"Everyone took it well? No one attacked Merlin or accused him of being evil and traitorous or anything?" Lancelot probed doubtfully.

"The newer knights took a little persuading, but most of them were fine with it once Leon had a talk with them. Only Sir Paul had any real problem with it," Gwaine told him. "But he had a little chat with Merlin before we left and looked like he was doing some serious thinking, so there's hope on that front. What's up with you?" he asked suspiciously. "You don't seem nearly as surprised on the whole 'Merlin-has-magic' thing as I thought you'd be." Lancelot shifted guiltily.

"Well…I  _may_  have already known that bit…" he confessed awkwardly. He knew that Gwaine considered Merlin to be his best friend, just as Lancelot did, and he knew it was going to sting that he hadn't known and someone else had. He knew he was right when Gwaine's mouth dropped open and his eyes flashed dangerously.

"That little prick!" he yelled, looking highly offended. "How long have you known about this? When did he tell you?"

"He didn't tell me," Lancelot assured him quickly, "and he had no intention of doing so. If I hadn't seen him at it, I would never have known." He went on to explain about the first time he came to Camelot and about the griffin and his and Merlin's part in destroying it. Gwaine looked slightly mollified by this explanation, but still miffed.

"Still should've told me," he groused, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

"I know. I've tried to get him to tell people," Lancelot confessed. "You and Arthur specifically. But Merlin's really sensitive sometimes, and he felt like you all would hate him for keeping it a secret so long."

"So his solution was to keep it a secret even longer?" Gwaine snorted and rolled his eyes. "Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Of course. That is just the sort of thing Merlin would do, too. Avoid confrontation as long as possible without any thought as to how much worse the confrontation would be the longer he waited. Just brilliant. The git."

"I wonder how Arthur's taking it," Lancelot said worriedly, completely ignoring Gwaine's tangent, biting his lip and glancing out the window as if that would present him with a view of Merlin and Arthur. It obviously didn't, so he turned back to Gwaine, who shrugged.

"Merlin saved his life," he pointed out. "He couldn't be  _too_  angry, could he?"

"You know Arthur's temper and his upbringing where magic is concerned. There's no guarantee that would be enough to save Merlin from his considerable wrath," he pointed out.

"From what I saw back there, Merlin is more than capable of defending himself against princess," Gwaine scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Hell, he could probably take out an  _army_  of Arthurs if he wanted to, no problem at all."

"Key phrase being ' _if he wanted to,_ '" Lancelot said. "Merlin would never use his magic against Arthur, even if it was to save his own life." Gwaine frowned heavily at this. "Not that I think Arthur would actually try to kill Merlin. But we don't know whether he'll be furious that Merlin uses magic or if he'll recognize that he's only using it for good. Either way, I think we should go find Merlin and find out what's happened and if he's alright." Lancelot led the way out of Gwaine's room toward Arthur's, hoping to find him going about his servant duties like normal. Conveniently enough, they caught sight of him just around the corner. He saw them as well and looked between the two of them uncertainly, obviously wondering if each knew that the other knew his secret. Gwaine strode right up to him and smacked him in the back of the head. Merlin gaped at him while Lancelot held back a snicker.

"What was that for?" he whined, rubbing his head.

"Why'd you let him know and not me?" Gwaine asked plaintively, sounding rather like a five year old being told he couldn't have the toy he wanted.

"Wha—" Merlin spluttered, looking to Lancelot, who just shrugged unhelpfully at him. "I didn't  _let_  him know, he found out completely against my will and in a situation where it was the only option. Just like you did, might I add."

"Maybe so, but he's known for a long time and hasn't turned you in. Why couldn't you trust me the same way?" he asked, sounding a bit wounded. Merlin sighed.

"Force of habit," he said heavily. "Fear or rejection. For the sake of simplicity."

"Well, that was all dumb," Gwaine said firmly. "Of all people you could've told, you should've known that I would be the most open and the most excited. I've spent most of my life in kingdoms that are  _not_  Camelot. I have no prejudice against magic. I think you being a sorcerer is bloody cool and I want a demonstration soon, Merlin, you got that?"

"Alright, Gwaine, I think that can be arranged at some point," Merlin said, smiling.

"Serious question," Lancelot broke in. "Did you wake Arthur up yet? What happened?"

Merlin looked at his friend for moment, unsure how to answer the question. His mind kicked into overdrive over whether or not he should tell them exactly what happened. Then Arthur's words a moment before came back to his mind. _No man has the right to tell another man's secret_. With an inward sigh, he decided on a few more lies until he had time to regroup with Arthur and Gaius and decide what exactly everyone should be told.

"He actually took it quite well," he said. It wasn't a complete lie. After he got over the shouting and the uncontrollable bursts of magic in Gaius' chambers, he had really taken everything else in stride. He was more upset by  _him_  having magic than Merlin, to be honest. But he wasn't going to tell them that. Not yet at least. "He was angry for a few minutes, but then he calmed down and listened to what I had to say, and he's handling it admirably.

"So your healing was satisfactory?" Gwaine asked. "Princess all patched up?"

"Yes, it seems I did everything right."

"Your healing has improved then," Lancelot said. "Last time I checked, you were rubbish at healing spells."

"I didn't exactly use a  _spell_ , per se," Merlin told him sheepishly. "It was more of just a shove-him-full-of-magic-and-see-what-happens sort of thing. But it worked out, so it's all fine." He smiled and Lancelot just looked at him in exasperation tinged with respect and a little bit of awe for his power.

"When is Arthur coming back to training, then, if he's all fixed up?" Lancelot asked. "I am so tired of those recruits. Can he just defeat them all and get it over with so I don't have to train them anymore?"

"The newbies giving you trouble again?" Gwaine asked sympathetically. They, Elyan, and Percival had all been on the receiving end of some unpleasantness from the other knights, the ones who came from nobility, for being commoners—Gwaine had seen fit not to inform them of his own noble blood on the basis that he didn't consider himself a noble so why should they? Lancelot took the comments with diplomacy and tact. Gwaine had a tendency to punch people, but Arthur was trying to break him of that habit. Elyan would challenge anyone who commented to spar with him and  _then_  claim he didn't deserve his knighthood. Percival simply ignored them all and stayed silent like usual.

"A little bit," Lancelot admitted. "A few comments here and there, but most of them had the sense not to try and talk down to me when I was the one in charge of their knight training. They knew that if they got too far on my bad side, I could easily prevent them from even getting tested. Not that I would, as that would not be very honorable and, despite what they think, I am a knight and therefore take my honor very seriously."

"You take your honor more seriously than any knight I've ever known," Merlin joked, nudging him with his shoulder. "You banished yourself from the kingdom because of your honor when no one else even thought it was in question." Lancelot simply shrugged, not bothering to defend himself when he knew it was true.

"So when is Arthur going to be ready to test them?"

"It should be another week or so," Merlin said.

"I thought you said you'd fixed him up alright," Gwaine said, frowning.

"I did!" Merlin defended. "But that still took a lot out of both of us. He needs to rest and regain his strength. He lost a lot of blood, if nothing else." He knew this wasn't the reason Arthur wasn't going to test the knights anytime soon, but it may have been a valid point anyway, he hadn't asked Arthur how he was feeling physically. The others seemed to accept this answer. At least they nodded and didn't pursue the subject. "He did tell me to make sure you had the recruits trained up properly," Merlin added to Lancelot. "And that I need to polish his armor. And sharpen his sword. And get his chainmail fixed by Elyan. And get off all the blood, which may be a little confusing to anyone who doesn't know the backstory." Gwaine grimaced sympathetically and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Sounds like you have a busy day ahead of you, my friend," he said. "Have fun with it." Then he walked away, undoubtedly to go to the tavern. Merlin shook his head at his retreating friend's back and turned to Lancelot, who was smiling broadly at him.

"So, Merlin. Everyone knows," he said simply. "How's it feel?" Merlin's slight grin grew into a smile so wide his over-bright eyes nearly disappeared.

"It feels so good," Merlin said, his voice just over a whisper. "You can't even begin to understand how good it feels, Lancelot. Everyone knows and I'm not dead. They're not even angry. I don't have to hide anymore." Lancelot beamed and pulled his friend into a tight hug, which Merlin returned fiercely. If Lancelot felt a bit of wetness on his shoulder, he ignored it. When he was released, Merlin pulled back and wiped at his eyes embarrassedly with the back of his hand, still smiling in a watery sort of way.

"I told you they would take it well. Now go on and polish the prat's armor, before you get yourself into trouble," Lancelot said lightly, giving Merlin a little push in the direction of the armory. Merlin chuckled and went without a fight. Lancelot watched him go, smiling gently. That young man had so much power and had suffered and sacrificed and done so much. It was about damn time he got the recognition and appreciation he deserved.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am apparently horrendous at keeping to an update schedule. There went the every-three-days plan I had in the beginning. This is what I get for trying to upload two different stories to two different websites on two different schedules at the same time. That didn't work out at all.

Arthur sat cross-legged on his bed for some time after Merlin had left to complete his chores, just processing the events of the day before. So much had changed in such a short time. He could feel the weighty warmth in his chest, pulsing with every beat of his heart, reminding him that he was now so fundamentally different than he had been. He was a sorcerer.  _No, a warlock_ , he had to remind himself. There was a difference, he now knew. He was a warlock. And so was Merlin.

Now  _there_  was something he never saw coming. Who could possibly have predicted that  _Merlin_  would be a warlock? And he was a powerful one at that. A warlock powerful enough to pour a considerable amount of his magic into another person and apparently not have put a dent in his own supply. Arthur was far from knowledgeable about such things as magic-users' reserves, but he was fairly certain any sorcerer he had ever encountered would've been drained completely and then some by what Merlin had done without even meaning to. Merlin, his bumbling and cheerful servant, was an immensely powerful warlock. And now so was Arthur.

He reached inside himself and tugged at the magic again just to feel it course over his skin, the rushing and throbbing of it so much more exhilarating than anything he had ever felt before. It felt wonderful and pure and so  _good_. He marveled that he could ever have thought this was evil in itself. But then he thought back to what he had felt of Morgana's magic.  _That_  had felt evil, tainted and cold and malicious. So if Merlin's magic could feel so good and Morgana's could so bad, then magic-users were obviously as varied as swordsmen. Arthur had only ever seen or heard tell of wicked sorcerers bent on destruction and revenge. He had never had a chance to encounter someone like Merlin, someone who used his magic with good intentions for the betterment and protection of others.

Arthur whispered "forbærnan" and a surge of magic accompanied the appearance of a small flame in his palm. This time, he kept a hold on his wonderment and joy to prevent it from flaring up in his face. He stared at it, examining this little flame he had produced from nothingness. It was brilliant. It was such a feeling of accomplishment and delight and awe that he felt a little lightheaded at the rush of emotions. This wasn't evil. It couldn't be. He could feel it, the purity of this small act of magic, and it completely counteracted everything he had ever been taught. His father was wrong, there was no doubt in his mind now. This here, this little flame, was right.

And that threw him for a loop. His father, the king, had always been a role model for Arthur, someone after whom he should model himself. He was strong and powerful, steady and unyielding, and always acted in the best interests of his kingdom even when the decisions were difficult to make. He never hesitated and he never let his emotions get in the way. At least, that's what Arthur had thought. But now that he looked back, he saw that his father had been letting his emotions guide him for the last twenty-three years. His hatred of magic was not based on logic or evidence, it was based on something else, but what that could be Arthur didn't know. He couldn't think of anything that would cause his father to go so far as to instigate a genocide against the magical people. Except for—

No. No, that had been a lie. Morgause had tricked him with an image of his mother to bait him into killing his father out of revenge. Merlin had stopped him in time, making it clear to Arthur that she had been lying to achieve just that result. But then…had  _he_  been the one lying? Merlin had already said that he didn't want to come between Arthur and his father and had lied to keep that from happening. Might that have been a time when he had done the same? It would explain a lot. If his father really had caused his mother's death by ill-advisedly using the magic of life and death, the grief and anger would surely be enough to fuel his hatred for magic for many years to come.

At the thought that what Morgause and his mother had said might actually be true, Arthur could feel his magic start to writhe inside him, reacting to his growing anger. He tried to force it down.  _It was a long time ago_ , he told himself.  _Getting angry will do no good now. You've already had your chance to take out your anger on him and you almost killed him. Getting angry is dangerous right now. Just take a deep breath and think this through._  Breathing deeply, he thought back to what his mother had said.

Uther had wanted an heir but Ygraine had been unable to conceive. His father had turned to Nimueh, their friend and a respected member of the court, for magical help. She had advised him against it and explained that to create a life another must be taken to maintain the balance. Uther had ignored her warnings and insisted she perform the magic anyway. She had finally conceded and Arthur had been conceived as a result of her magic. When Arthur was born, his mother's life had been taken in return. Uther, in his grief, turned his rage on Nimueh and claimed she had done it purposely even though she had told him that she had no control over who the Powers of the Old Religion would choose. He had banned magic and killed all those known or suspected to practice it. And he continued killing to this day. When Arthur thought about it, really thought about it, Nimueh wasn't to blame at all. She had warned him and Uther had disregarded her cautions. Maybe she should not have given into his demands, but he was her king. It was expected that she do as he commanded. But Uther, his actions were inexcusable. Nimueh's mistake had cost one woman her life and given it to her son. Uther's actions had caused the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands, of magic-wielders across the kingdom.

As much as it hurt to realize, Arthur did not idolize his father anymore. He pitied him. He pitied his father that his grief made him blind and his rage made him unreasonable. He pitied his father that he could not see the beauty of the simple flame Arthur now held in his hand.  _All because of me_ , he couldn't help but think. His conception and birth had started all of this, and he couldn't help but feel a bit of guilt for that, even though he had had nothing to do with any of it, really. He made a note to confront Merlin about all of this and make sure he was correct in his assumption that Morgause had been telling the truth. Surely Merlin would be impressed and proud that Arthur had not destroyed his room while reaching his conclusions. He was a little proud himself, actually.

There came a knock on the door and Arthur jumped, the flame disappearing. He leaned back against his headboard hurriedly, making sure he looked settled and bored, and called for the person to enter. The door opened a bit and Morgana peeked her head in tentatively. He felt himself tense slightly, his magic swirling up a bit as he remembered what Merlin had told him. She was a witch, and she was betraying him. She wanted to see Uther dead, wanted to see  _Arthur_  dead, wanted to see Camelot fall. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself before his magic did something of its own accord again. She stepped into the room with a small smile on her face.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Morgana," he said, working to keep his voice light and conversational. "Just a head wound. I've had plenty of them."

"You do seem to get hit in the head a lot, don't you?" she mused. She came over to sit on the side of his bed, looking very concernedly at the bandages on his head. He tried not to recoil when she reached out to move some of his hair out of his face, much like Gwen had done that morning. Her fingers brushed his skin and he was flooded again with that icy feeling. His magic shrunk away from it and he shivered involuntarily. Thinking him cold, Morgana pulled a blanket from the bottom of the unmade bed up to cover him. "Better?"

Arthur nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She placed her hand on his in what was surely supposed to be a comforting and supportive gesture, still smiling at him in a way that did not, he noticed, reach her eyes. Those reflected her magic more than anything; they were hard, unforgiving, and just as frosty. He felt like he was being encased in ice and it just felt so  _wrong_ , like her magic had spoiled and gone bad. He ached to wrench his hand away from her, but he knew that would alert her to something he desperately wanted to keep hidden from her. His distress must've shown on his face because her brow furrowed.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look like you're in pain," she said, the picture of worry and concern. He shook his head and tried to smile at her, but couldn't help being immensely relieved when the door opened and Merlin strode in. He froze in the doorway as Morgana spun to look at him. She immediately stood up and Arthur was filled with relief as the feeling of ice disappeared when her hand did and his own magic crept back up to warm him again.

"I'll leave you to your rest, Arthur," Morgana said, sending him a small smile that wasn't nearly as convincing as her others had been. Merlin did not move out of her way as she headed for the door, forcing her to squeeze around him. Arthur, being a knight, was trained in the art of observation. Inasmuch, he did not miss the tension between them or the poisonous look Morgana gave Merlin as she passed him. As soon as the door closed, Arthur pounced.

"What was that?" he asked immediately.

"What was what?" Merlin replied distractedly, much the same way he had the day before when Arthur had asked the same question in the same context.

"That look," Arthur said. Merlin seemed confused. "I know why you look at her the way you do—you know she's a liar and a traitor—but why does she look at  _you_  the same way? Does she know about your magic? Can she sense yours like you can hers?"

"No," Merlin sighed, moving to sit down in the chair by the table and appearing to settle in for a while. "She may be powerful, but she's not  _that_  powerful. She can work impressive feats of magic when moved to it, but she is not powerful enough to sense the magic of others, not even magic as powerful as ours." Arthur frowned a bit at the thought that he, Arthur, was now considerably more powerful than Morgana. And Merlin was even more powerful than him.  _Just how powerful_ is _Merlin?_  he wondered in astonishment. But that could wait until later.

"Then why does she appear to hate you so?" Merlin sighed heavily, looking older and sadder than Arthur had ever seen him look. It was a worrisome sight.

"This is one of those secrets I was really hoping to put off until later. You're suddenly a lot more observant than you used to be," he chuckled quietly. Then he sobered up immediately. "I'm hoping you'll take this well, considering how readily you accepted her magic and her betrayal." He took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself. "I poisoned her."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, trying to judge whether or not he was joking. His face was set, his eyes brighter than they should've been, his hands clenched and white-knuckled in his lap, his jaw clenched. He was avoiding Arthur's eye. He was dead serious.

"Why?" Arthur asked. What would drive Merlin—kind, compassionate, forgiving Merlin—to  _poison_  Morgana.

"It was during the attack last year, the one where Morgana disappeared. When the whole city fell asleep except us and her, and Morgause and the Knights of Medhir were attacking. Remember how we couldn't figure out why she wasn't asleep like everyone else?" he asked.

"She said Gaius had given her a potion before he had fallen ill and been unable to distribute any more of it," Arthur supplied, remembering with a shudder the horrible helplessness he had felt that day. Everything had been going so terribly wrong and there had been nothing he could do about it. He had been sure they were all going to die that day and Camelot was going to fall to Morgause. But it had all stopped, inexplicably, miraculously. Morgause had called off the Knights and fled. And Morgana had been taken. That part, at least, made more sense now. It seemed like he was about to get the rest of the story.

"A spell like the one Morgause used to put everyone to sleep needs a source, something or someone from which it draws its energy. The spell cannot be broken unless the caster lifts it willingly or the source is destroyed. Morgana was the source of that spell, Arthur. That's why she wasn't affected by it. She had to die or the entire kingdom would have been destroyed." Merlin's eyes were definitely wet now, but he didn't let the tears fall. He still wouldn't look at Arthur.

"How can that be? She was just as scared and confused as we were," Arthur recalled. Morgana was obviously a good actress, but no one was  _that_  good. She had been legitimately terrified by what was going on, he had seen it in her eyes. Had she been betraying them even then? If so, why hadn't she just finished them off for Morgause when they were so obviously trusting her completely. She had ample opportunity to kill Uther while they had left her, with sword in hand, to guard him. But she hadn't. Arthur's head was hurting and nothing seemed to be making sense anymore.

"She didn't know she was source," Merlin explained. "She wasn't completely gone to us at that point, but she was already sympathizing with Morgause, seeing her frequently and forming the basis of their alliance. Morgause cast the spell with Morgana as the source but didn't tell her what it would do. She was the source, but she didn't know what was happening any more than you did. That made what I had to do so much harder. That was the most difficult decision of my life, Arthur. Her face when she realized what I'd done, that she was dying…I see it in my dreams still. She was my friend, and I tried to kill her." Merlin's voice was choked, like his throat was closing up. A tear finally escaped and he hurriedly wiped it away. Then he looked up and met Arthur's gaze. The pain and self-loathing Arthur saw in his friend's eyes was enough to make his heart clench and his magic leap up in sympathy, wanting to alleviate a pain that couldn't be healed. "You understand why I had to do it, don't you?" His voice was so anguished that Arthur couldn't believe that  _anyone_  could possibly have doubted Merlin in that moment.

"Of course I do," he said firmly. "The entire kingdom and all of our lives were at stake. There was no other decision you could've made." Merlin's face seemed to crumple and his entire body relaxed as he slumped back into the chair. He rubbed his slightly shaking hands over his wet face and then dried it on his sleeves.

"I don't think," he began as he sat back up, looking considerably more composed, "that Morgause ever told Morgana she was the source. I don't think Morgana knows why I did what I did. All she knows is that I was her friend and I betrayed her in the worst possible way for no apparent reason. I don't blame her for hating me as she does. I just wish I had had the opportunity to explain to her. Not that that would make what I did any better, but at least she would know that it wasn't out of malice or anything."

"Why didn't she die?" Arthur asked gently, not wishing to cause Merlin any more pain but feeling as if he had to know. And, he thought, this might be good for Merlin. He probably needed to talk about it. "If you poisoned her with the intention of killing her to break the spell. The spell did break, and everyone woke up. The Knights stopped fighting and she and Morgana fled. Why didn't she die?"

"Morgause came in while Morgana was d-dying." Arthur pretended out of courtesy not to notice his stutter. "She demanded to know what I had done. I said I would tell her what poison I used if she broke the spell and ceased her attack on Camelot. Desperate to save her sister's life, she agreed. She lifted the spell and the Knights stopped and I showed her the poison. Then people started showing up and she took Morgana away to heal her." His face became distant and pained again. "I wasn't sure she succeeded until we found Morgana a year later. I didn't know whether or not I was a murderer, whether or not I had succeeded in killing my friend, and I had to live with that for a year. Then we got her back and she hated me, but wasn't going to turn me in. Instead, she lorded the knowledge over me as blackmail. Said that if I saw anything suspicious and told anyone, she would tell Uther what I had done and he would have me killed in a second for attacking his beloved ward. And I wouldn't even be able to deny it, because it would be completely true." Arthur was a little bit shocked at the hard bitterness in his voice by the end of his explanation. It was a side of him Arthur had never seen. It must've shown on his face. "What?" Merlin asked, glancing at him.

"I guess I just have a hard time picturing you actually killing someone," Arthur admitted. Merlin smiled humorlessly.

"I've killed a lot of people, Arthur," he said quietly and Arthur could hear the regret and the remorse underscoring his tone. It pained him.

"We've all taken our fair share of lives, Merlin," Arthur said in what he hoped was a gentle and reassuring tone. Merlin seemed to notice the unusual manner and looked up to meet his gaze. "You have no reason to feel such guilt. You don't deserve it. You've only ever done what you thought was right. And no one should fault you for that, not even you."

"When did you become so wise?" Merlin asked with a slight chuckle, ducking his head to avoid Arthur's intense look.

"What, you can come to me with strange moments of wisdom and insight but I can't do the same for you?" Arthur asked, hoping a return to their light banter would bring Merlin out of this dark sadness.

"Ah, no, you should stick to what you're good at," Merlin said teasingly. "Just eat, fight, and look pretty." He smiled and met Arthur's eyes again, but this time his were sparkling with humor and not tears. Arthur smiled back at him. Merlin became serious again for a moment, but the slight smile remained, as did the twinkle in his eye.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"What for?"

"I think you're the only one who could ever convince me what I did was the right thing. I'd almost given up the hope you'd ever get the chance to do so."

"Glad to have been of service to you for once," Arthur said with a smirk.

"Like I said, stick to what you're good at, Arthur. Serving's  _my_  job, remember?"

Yes, Merlin was going to be fine. And Arthur was glad. He really didn't much like when Merlin was melancholy. It meant he wasn't smiling.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's another chapter to make up for not posting for like two weeks or something. Cuz I suck. Here you go.

Merlin flitted around Arthur's room, tidying things up and putting clothes away and the like while Arthur got ready for bed. There was a comfortable, companionable silence, as there usually was. Eventually, Merlin started humming. Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation, but didn't bother with telling him to shut up; he knew Merlin would just ignore him or call him a prat and hum louder just to annoy him. The thought brought a small smile to his face.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked. He looked up at him to show he was listening. "Do you want to tell anyone? About your newfound abilities?" Arthur frowned, thinking, and sat down on his bed. With the knowledge of the laws in the back of his mind, his instincts revolted at the thought of telling anyone that he now had magic. It was against the law and punishable by death. As much as he trusted his knights, his  _friends_ , with his life every time they went into battle side by side, this somehow seemed very different. This was a different kind of trust, one that felt much more fragile and uncertain.

"Do you think I should?" he asked apprehensively. Merlin shrugged and came to sit on the bed next to him.

"They all took the news of mine fairly well," he offered. "I doubt they would react very differently to yours." His reassurances did very little to quell Arthur's trepidation at the thought of entrusting his new secret to anyone other than Merlin and Gaius. The very thought of it made his stomach squirm and churn and his heart speed up. He frowned.

"I understand why you never told anyone now," he said. "It's a terrifying thought. Putting your life in someone else's hands that way. Did you always feel like this, Merlin? Like the world would end if anyone found out?" He chuckled, trying to pass the comment off as much more casual than it was, trying to make it less obvious just how scared he was at the prospect of telling anyone of his new status as a warlock.

"My world very well  _could_  have ended if anyone had found out. Execution is still a very real possibility for me," Merlin pointed out and Arthur flinched at the nonchalance with which he spoke of his own death. "Not as much for you, seeing as you're the Crown Prince, but it would still be in your best interest not to get caught. I don't know what your father would do, but I doubt it would be pleasant. But yes, Arthur. I've had to live with that feeling my entire life."

"How could you stand it? I've only had these powers for a day and a half and I'm already wearing thin at the edges," Arthur confessed tiredly. Just the worry, the knowledge that what he was doing was illegal, that he could be caught at any moment, that he could be carted away and brought before the king on completely legitimate claims of sorcery, that he could be killed for something he had no control over. It was maddening, and sickening, to think of that and he had tried hard to keep his mind off it. And Merlin had lived with this feeling all of his life, being in the heart of the anti-magic capital right under the nose of the man who had banned it to begin with. He had to have nerves of steel.

"I'm used to it, I guess," Merlin said quietly, looking a bit sad again. "This is by far the most people I've ever had in the know about my magic. Not just at one time, but ever. When I was growing up, it was just me and my mother. The other kids seemed to know I was different, but they weren't sure why. So they just settled with calling me weird, a freak, a bastard. I put up with it because I knew I was different, special. But I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't tell anyone, I couldn't let anyone know or catch me at it, I couldn't use it to defend myself. Even if magic wasn't banned in Cenred's kingdom, it was stilled feared and distrusted. And we were close enough to Camelot that the danger of persecution from Uther was still very real. So I kept it quiet and kept to myself." Arthur found himself listening intently to Merlin's story; he was actually a very good storyteller. Very expressive. Merlin smiled a little bit then, but it too was tinged with sadness.

"Then Will found out." Will. The man who had claimed on his deathbed to be a sorcerer. Now Arthur knew it had been Merlin who had conjured that windstorm, not Will. His friend had taken the blame and kept Merlin's secret for him, knowing only one of them would have to die that way. He wondered if  _he_  had any friends like that. Then he realized that was a stupid thought; he had one sitting right next to him, he was certain of it. "I didn't mean for him to. My mother had drilled it into me that no one could be allowed to find out, it was far too dangerous. We were about fourteen, I think. A couple of older boys had been hassling me again—it was a common occurrence, really, I wasn't very popular—and they managed to push me into the river and then leave. I got out alright, but the problem was that it was the dead of winter. I knew I'd succumb to hypothermia in a few minutes if I didn't do something, no matter how risky it was, so I used magic to dry my clothes and start a fire. Will saw and came running up, grinning like a maniac, and demanded I do it again." Merlin smiled fondly at the memory.

"I remember I was so scared at first, terrified that he would turn me in or be afraid of me or something. He just shook his head and said it was the coolest thing he had ever seen. Wouldn't leave my side from them on. He's the one who finally made all the other boys leave me alone; he was a much better fighter than I was. I fought back with words usually, but my sharp wit was oftentimes lost on those with a smaller vocabulary so it was never really very effective. Fists, though, those were something the bullies understood. And Will's were much more useful than mine. And he never told. Even when he was angry with me, even as he lay dying, he was still protecting me." His eyes were wet again, but he was still smiling fondly.

"He was a good man," Arthur said solemnly. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did."

"It's fine," Merlin assured him. "I always understood why you treated magic the way you did. It's hard to overcome years of teaching when you have little to no evidence to the contrary of what you've been taught. Sure, it saddened me a little that you couldn't see magic the way I did, but I can't really blame you for it. Sins of the father, and all that."

"I sort of feel that way about my father now," Arthur told him. "Now that I know how good magic feels, I pity him that he doesn't."

"And that's the difference between us and all the sorcerers bent on revenge," Merlin said. "They hate him for his actions. We pity him for his loss by them." Arthur nodded, marveling once more at just how profound Merlin could be when he was really in the mood for it. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both wrapped up in their thoughts. Merlin eventually broke it.

"So do you want to tell anyone?" he asked. "The knights? Gwen?"

"I don't know if I could," Arthur confessed, running a hand shakily through his hair.

"I'd be right there with you," Merlin said. "At your side, like I always am. I know how it might feel sometimes—like you're backed up against a wall, nowhere to go, enemies pressing in on all sides, and the floor falling out from under your feet—but you're not alone in this, Arthur. You never have been. And I can tell you that having someone find out a secret like this and having them accept it…it's the best feeling in the world."

"How could you risk it, though?" Arthur asked intently. "How could you expose yourself to so many people like that when there was every chance you'd be killed?" He certainly didn't think  _he'd_  have been able to bring himself to do it. He was nearly having heart palpitations thinking about telling Guinevere, who he knew loved him unconditionally. Merlin simply shrugged.

"You were in danger," he said. Arthur stared at him. "I couldn't just let you die, Arthur. There was no other option. When I saw how badly you were hurt, it didn't matter that there were witnesses. It didn't matter that it was illegal and I should be careful. It didn't matter that it's always been drilled into me that I need to hide it. I've spent far too much time and energy keeping you alive to have you die right there just because there were too many people around. I took a risk with my life, that's true, but I wasn't willing to risk yours."

Arthur felt a dangerous clenching in his throat and a prickling behind his eyes. He tried to blink it away without it being obvious what he was doing; he didn't want Merlin to know just how affected he was by the idiot's devotion to him. Arthur may not have understood why his servant, his friend, was so incredibly dedicated to him, but he could not deny that he was deeply touched by it. But that didn't mean Merlin had to  _know_  that.

"Well, I'm glad the risk played out well for you," he said instead. "And I guess…if it worked for you, it should work for me. I'll tell the knights." Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Leon would surely be open to it. They would understand.

"Not Gwen?" Merlin questioned. Arthur paused. He wasn't sure why, but he was rather reluctant to tell Guinevere about this. Her father, he remember, had been killed as an accomplice to a sorcerer. She herself had been accused of sorcery more than once, and almost executed for it. The most recent accusation had been but a few weeks ago after being accused of enchanting Arthur into their relationship. It was utter nonsense, of course, but the fact remained that Guinevere had suffered a great deal because of sorcery. But was that the real reason he didn't want to tell her? There was also the fact that Gwen didn't know about Merlin's magic yet either. That was contributing to his reluctance. To tell of his magic, he would have to tell of Merlin's. And while Merlin didn't seem opposed to the idea, it still felt wrong for Arthur to be given the choice of whether or not to reveal Merlin's secret. Their secret. And somehow that just felt right to him. That it should be  _their_  secret, just his and Merlin's. But he knew that was ridiculous. Still.

"No," he found himself saying. "Not yet. I don't want to worry her with this. And," he added, "she's still Morgana's maid. I don't want to put her in a position where she has to lie to Morgana about me. That's too dangerous." Merlin looked a little dubious at this answer, but nodded his acquiescence anyway.

"Alright. We'll tell Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon, Elyan and Percival tomorrow then."

"Lancelot? He wasn't there," Arthur said, surprised he had been included in the list.

"No, but he's been filled in by Gwaine," Merlin said with a roll of the eyes. "And he actually already knew about my magic. Found out by accident the first time he was in Camelot. Gwaine was right offended when he found out Lancelot had known and he hadn't. So he's been all caught up on the events. So I'll find all of them and send them up here tomorrow so you can tell them all at the same time. Do you want to learn a different spell to show them, or are you good with the flame?"

"Well, I don't really have anything better to do while I'm stuck in this blasted room than practice my illegal sorcery, so feel free to teach me more entertaining tricks at any point in time, Merlin," Arthur said cheekily. "I did sit in here for several hours today creating fire in my hand over and over again. Gets rather monotonous after a while." He didn't disclose that he had actually found it fascinating rather than boring. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself. However, he was quite curious and eager to learn more.

"I'll teach you more tomorrow before we tell the knights," Merlin said, smiling. "Now go to bed. Tomorrow's going to be an interesting day, I promise you that. Just imagine Gwaine's reaction to hearing you've suddenly got magic. I'm sure he'll think it's hysterical."

"Of course he will," Arthur grumbled as he crawled into bed. "That man will be the death of me, I swear it."

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another one. Making up for lost time.

Arthur paced around his room, running his fingers through his hair until it looked like he had a blonde hedgehog on his head. He was nervous, he couldn't deny that. Merlin had gone to fetch the knights and had left him alone to wait. And the wait before the battle is always the worst part. Not that this was going to be a battle, of course. But those were really the only terms Arthur knew how to think in, so he just went with whatever analogy he was most familiar with. Hopefully the knights would take this in stride. They had accepted Merlin, right? They would accept him no problem. Right? Of course. Yes, of course they would.

The door opened and in strode Gwaine, looking curious and only slightly tipsy. He stopped to watch Arthur pace for a moment, looking like he might speak up, then he just shrugged and flopped down on Arthur's bed. The prince turned to glare half-heartedly at him but he didn't have the focus to really reprimand his knight for his lack of decorum. He went back to pacing. Elyan came in next, smiling at Arthur and tactfully ignoring how wound up he was. He took a seat in the only chair in the room, looking rather smug that he had gotten to it first. Percival showed up and nodded to each of them in turn, then stood solemnly by the wall with his hands clasped in front of him. Leon came in and clapped Arthur on the shoulder, grinning at him in an encouraging sort of way—which actually did make Arthur feel a bit less nervous; Leon had always been like an older brother to him—and leaned on the table beside Elyan. Lancelot came in last with Merlin at his side. He nodded to Arthur and sat, in a much more dignified manner, on the edge of Arthur's bed beside Gwaine. Merlin perched on the ledge of the window and turned to Arthur expectantly. All the knights followed suit and Arthur suddenly felt like he was standing in a very hot spotlight.

"Er…hello," he began oh so eloquently. Merlin snorted and Arthur shot him a dark look before scrambling for something more intelligent to say. "Thank you all for coming" was all he managed to come up with.

"No problem, princess, what's on your mind?" Gwaine called out. The tension broke as all the knights snickered at Arthur's nickname. The man in question rolled his eyes.

"I'll just get straight to the point, then, shall I? All of you—well, most of you—were witness to something two days ago. Merlin," he gestured to him, "saved my life with an incredible feat of magic." Merlin blushed all the way up to his hairline, looking taken aback and completely uncomfortable with the praise. Gwaine jumped to his feet and began clapping exaggeratedly. With a laugh, the other knights joined in until they were all applauding Merlin, who was just staring around at them, although he did look just the slightest bit pleased with all the attention. "Yes, yes, well done, Merlin, but that's not the point," Arthur said, waving a hand dismissively. "In doing so, he flooded my body with magic. And apparently…it stuck."

"It…stuck?" Leon asked confusedly. Arthur looked to Merlin nervously and he just nodded back, smiling. They had decided showing would be easier than telling. Shifting, Arthur held out his hand and did as Merlin had instructed the day before. He reached for the magic and pulled it forth until it ran along his skin. Then he took a deep breath and whispered, "Forbærnan." The little flame sprang to life in his palm and he knew the rush of magic had manifested itself in the flash of gold across his irises. There was dead silence for a few seconds as they all watched the flame with astonishment. Then Gwaine began clapping again, very slowly and almost sardonically.

"Well, isn't this just irony at its finest?" he asked loudly. "Princess has magic. I think the world must be ending. Anyone want to join me in spending our last day in the tavern?" Gwaine's knack for tension-breaking was uncanny. Then everyone was laughing again. Arthur extinguished the flame and laughed with them; he knew better than anyone just how ironic the situation really was. Plus, the rush of relief was making him a little giddy; no one was angry, no one was threatening him, no one was rushing to his father or calling the guards. Not that he had honestly expected any of that to happen. The paranoia of the guilty—in this case, the guilty of having magic in a kingdom set against it—had taken hold of him and was only now beginning to dissipate. Merlin had been right; this _was_  a brilliant feeling.

"So this is why you can't test the new recruits right away?" Lancelot asked over the din. "You're worried you won't be able to control your new magic in a swordfight? Well you need to get a hold on it quickly, then. I am about  _this_  close to challenging some of these little—"

"Ooh, you know they're bad when even  _Lancelot_  gets testy," Elyan put in, poking fun at his gentleness and even keel.

"So you don't really have a head injury," Leon stated, looking to Arthur for confirmation. "You just needed an excuse to squirrel yourself away and work on controlling your magic?"

"It's mostly linked to his emotions at this point," Merlin explained. "Just like it is for anyone just coming into their powers. He needs a few days to get a handle on things before he has to try and put up with you lot in public. Otherwise he might blow up the castle." They all laughed again.

"Who would've ever guessed it," Gwaine said for what seemed like the thirtieth time in the last few days as he collapsed backward onto Arthur's bed again. "Merlin's little surprise was unexpected enough, but no one could ever have predicted  _Arthur_  becoming a sorcerer."

"Warlock," both Arthur and Merlin corrected. They both looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. The knights all looked between them and groaned.

"They'll be inseparable now," Leon lamented.

"Haven't they always been?" Percival pointed out.

"Yeah, but now they'll have a whole new language to bicker in. Ooh, Merlin!" Gwaine said excitedly, sitting up and bouncing like a child on his birthday. "Can you teach me swear words in the Old Language?"

"No, Gwaine, I refuse to give you another language to disgrace with your filthy tongue," Merlin said, throwing a pillow at Gwaine, who caught it sent it right back. It hit Merlin in the face and sent the others roaring back into hilarity. Merlin picked up the pillow and pelted it at Elyan, who deflected it toward Percival, who tossed it to Leon, who finally threw it at Arthur. On instinct, Arthur's magic stopped the pillow in midair and they all marveled at it, their chuckles slowly dying away.

"That is really very strange," Percival said eventually. They all nodded along. Leave it to Percival to sum up the entire situation in as few words as possible. Arthur snatched the pillow from the air and tossed it back on his bed, narrowly avoided Gwaine's head.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Leon finally asked him.

"I don't really know," Arthur admitted. "Keep it a secret, I guess. It's still illegal to have and practice magic. I don't know what else I  _can_  do about it."

"I'll be training him," Merlin said. "Working with him and getting him used to using it. Or not using it, as the case may be. Restraining his magic is going to be the hard part. I should know; it was  _my_ magic first."

"Hold on. You managed to give him enough of your magic to make him a warlock in his own right and yet you still have enough left over to be a strong one yourself?" Gwaine asked, eyes widening as he finally comprehended what exactly that meant. "Blimey, mate, how powerful  _are_  you?" Merlin shifted in his seat.

"Er…pretty powerful, yeah…" he mumbled, examining his fingers in his lap, but he didn't elaborate further. Arthur made a mental note to pressure him into talking about it later. Obviously there was more to be said on that front, but he didn't want to say it for some reason. Maybe he should ask Gaius.

"Well, we'll be around to cover for you, Arthur, if need be," Lancelot offered, obviously trying to draw the attention away from the painfully modest Merlin and back to Arthur. "We've still got your back, magic or no."

"Thank you, all of you," Arthur said sincerely, looking around at them all. He felt a sudden wave of affection for everyone in the room. They were his friends, his true friends. Before Merlin came to Camelot, Arthur hadn't had any friends. At least, not any real ones. He had had lackeys and flunkies, people who would do anything he told them to in the hopes of getting in good with him and his father. His power and his money made him very popular, but no one had actually known him or liked him very much. And he had been fine with that; after all, kings didn't have friends, they had subjects, so why should a prince be any different? Then Merlin came stumbling into his life, calling him a prat and an arse and poking holes in his overinflated ego without mercy. He was the first to actually  _look_  at Arthur and see that his title didn't make him perfect, and that there was more to him than his title afforded. And once he had Merlin, the others all followed. Lancelot, then Gwaine, Elyan, Percival. Merlin had even brought Arthur closer to Leon, who he had been the closest thing he had to a friend, though he wouldn't have admitted it at the time. Merlin just brought out the best in everyone. And there he was sitting by the window, beaming around at the group of knights. Arthur knew Merlin didn't realize how incredibly important he was to this little group; he was the catalyst who had brought them all together and the glue that held them there. Arthur caught his eye and held it for a moment, hoping to convey that he, too, was included in Arthur's gratitude, more so than perhaps anyone else.

"We're your friends, Arthur," Leon said, seeming to read his mind as he so often did. "There's no one else I'd rather commit treason for." Arthur laughed and Leon smiled at him. "You and Merlin's secrets are safe with us," he assured him. One by one Arthur pulled each man to his feet and gave him a one-armed hug, clapping him on the shoulder as he pulled away. He wanted each knight to know just how much this meant to him. They all filtered out, heading for the tavern with Gwaine, still joking about the apocalypse being imminent, leading the way. Finally it was just Arthur and Merlin left.

"See? That went well, just like I said it would," Merlin said.

"Don't get used to it, Merlin," Arthur scoffed. "You're rarely right."

"I'm right more often than you would ever admit," he pointed out, and Arthur knew he  _was_  right. Again. He was saved from having to admit it when the door creaked open, although he almost would've preferred having to worm his way out of that admission.

"Arthur?" Morgana said as she entered the room without knocking. Arthur was simply glad they hadn't been practicing; that would've been disastrous, he was sure. Small mercies, he supposed. "Are you sure you should be on your feet?"

"I'm fine, Morgana," he insisted. Merlin rolled his eyes and began shunting him back toward the bed.

"She's right, Arthur, you need to be resting," he said, winking at Arthur's confused face. Then Arthur remembered that he was supposed to be injured. "I let the knights visit, but that's really enough excitement for one day. Sit." Arthur allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed, not having to fake his annoyance. Morgana came forward, her face full of a concern that, now he was alerted to her treachery, was obviously feigned. He wondered how he had never seen through it before.

"Are you still in pain?" she asked, putting a hand on his cheek. He shuddered at the feeling of her twisted magic washing over him, and she took that as evidence of physical discomfort instead of magical. "Here," she said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a bracelet. "It's a healing bracelet. It's not magical, don't worry about it, but the metals used in making it are said to siphon away pain and help the body heal more quickly." She slipped the bracelet onto Arthur's wrist, then stood back up. She smiled down at him. "Feel better, Arthur." Then she left, bumping rudely into Merlin's shoulder as she passed him. Even though she was no longer touching him, Arthur could still feel her magic licking at his own. He immediately divested himself of the bracelet and threw it to Merlin, who caught it on reflex. Merlin's face darkened as he, too, felt the dark magic that imbued the bracelet.

"She's getting bolder. I'll have to take this to Gaius and see what sort of enchantment she put on it," he muttered, turning the thing over in his hands. Arthur noticed that Merlin didn't seem nearly as perturbed by Morgana's foul magic as he himself was, even though he claimed to be able to feel it much more acutely.

"Why does her magic affect me more than you?" Arthur asked, still trying to suppress tremors of disgust at the memory of her magic. "I can hardly stand to be in contact with it." Merlin looked up and shrugged.

"Not sure. Maybe I'm just more used to it," he said. "It might have something to do with the amount of magic we have. You may have enough to be able to sense her magic, but not enough to overcome it if the need arose. I have more magic than even you do, so maybe my magic just isn't as intimidated by hers as yours is." This thought brought Arthur's mind back to Gwaine's comment from earlier. He decided on the direct approach; it had always served him well in the past, hadn't it?

"Why are you so reluctant to talk about how powerful you are?" he asked. Merlin flinched a little. Obviously, he had been hoping to put this conversation off. He sighed, put Morgana's "healing" bracelet down on the table, and ran his fingers through his hair much like Arthur had been doing that morning.

"Maybe because it still doesn't feel real to me," he said quietly. "I have trouble believing it myself when people tell me stuff like that. And…it's just another way that I'm different. I'm an oddity, a freak, even among my own kind."

"How so? Just because you're more powerful than most people are?" Arthur asked. Merlin sighed and sat down on the side of Arthur's bed, pulling himself up to sit cross-legged facing Arthur.

"Remember all those times when you would doubt yourself and I would tell you that it was your destiny to be a great king?" he asked. Arthur nodded, thinking back on those times when Merlin would suddenly go from blundering idiot to unaccountably wise and subtly powerful. He had always wondered where Merlin got that quiet surety, his absolute faith in Arthur's abilities. He knew he had never had that much faith in himself. "I wasn't just trying to make you feel better. All that talk of destiny is absolutely true."

"What do you mean?"

"Hundreds of years ago, the druid prophets spoke of the Once and Future King," he said, "the king who would unite the land of Albion in peace and bring magic back to the land. He would helped, guided and protected by Emrys. This Emrys was prophesized to be the most powerful warlock ever to exist. And apparently, that's me. I am Emrys. And you are the Once and Future King, destined to bring magic back to the kingdom and peace to all lands." Arthur gaped at him. He wanted to laugh it off, wanted to make light of it, but Merlin's words resonated somewhere inside him. They rang with an undeniable truth and he found himself believing in their shared destiny wholeheartedly.

"So you're supposed to be the most powerful warlock there is?" he asked, awed.

"Is, has ever been, will ever be," Merlin said softly, sounding sad for some reason. He was fiddling with the hem of his pant leg, watching his fingers intently.

"And that bothers you," Arthur said, a bit confused as to his friend's distress.

"Of course it bothers me!" Merlin burst out, looking up at him. "The druids knew me on sight as Emrys before I had any idea who I was. Before I knew that my life had been planned out for me, that I had no choice in what I was to do with my life. They bow before me, Arthur. The leaders of the druid peoples give their sovereignty to _me_ , as if I'm royalty. Ever since I got to Camelot, all I've ever heard is destiny, destiny, destiny. It's a weight of responsibility that I never wanted, never asked for. Sometimes I feel like it's crushing me, like I can't breathe because of all that I have to do. I've had the entire kingdom resting on my shoulders and mine alone for years, made worse by the fact that I had to do it all from the shadows. I had to listen to you condemn magic and know that I was just that much farther away from completing the task I had been set because every time you were attacked by magic I knew that was one more reason for you  _not_  to bring it back. So many times I've had to make decisions that I abhorred because of my stupid destiny, so many things I've had to do because I was the only one who could, the only one strong enough. So, yes, Arthur, it does bother me. It bothers me because I'm only one person and yet I have the lives of everyone in this kingdom in my hands every day. I'm told that I hold the responsibility for bringing about a better tomorrow and the potential to destroy it completely, and some days I feel like it's not even worth trying anymore. And I have _so much power_. It scares me, Arthur, it really does. Sometimes it's beyond my control. And all the people I've killed…it was just so easy. Killing and destruction is the simplest thing by far, just a flick of the wrist. I can kill ten men in the blink of an eye. What does that make me? Why should I have that much power when I don't even want it? For this destiny? Sometimes I don't even know if it's possible anymore."

There were tears in Merlin's eyes and his hands were shaking so hard that he had to grip the blanket beneath him. Arthur wondered just how long he had been waiting for an opportunity to say these things. He suspected he had never voiced any of this before. He was oddly touched that he could be the one Merlin opened up to in this way. His heart ached for the boy, for the weight of his destiny. He felt now the burden of his own, but it wasn't very different than the one he had always known. He had been groomed all his life to be king, to be accountable for the lives of his people and the safety of his kingdom. He had oftentimes felt overwhelmed by the gravity of the responsibility he held, but Merlin had always been there to lighten the burden with humor and words of wisdom and confidence. Arthur had always striven to be a good king when the time came, and this just seemed to be confirmation that he would be. But Merlin. He had been a farm boy who had grown up being told  _not_  to use his magic. Then he gets to Camelot and is told he has to protect and guide someone who would kill him as soon as look at him if his secret were known, that he has to convince the son of Uther Pendragon that magic can be a force for good. It would seem an impossible task, no doubt. No wonder Merlin was so anguished.

"Well, you're already halfway there," he said. Merlin looked confused. "To your destiny. You've finally convinced me, albeit in a rather unconventional manner. And I promise you that when I am king, magic will be free in Camelot once more." Merlin's face broke out into a watery smile and his eyes shined with a joy of which Arthur had never quite seen the like.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that." Arthur smiled back at him, feeling more at peace with himself than he ever had before. He knew with every fiber of his being that he had made the right decision. Magic would be free again. He would see to it.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more. Just to be thorough. Not sure how many updates I actually missed. So four chapters should be more than enough probably. Let's see if I can actually remember to put up a new chapter in three days or if I forget again......

"What do you think it's for, Gaius?" Merlin asked later that evening as he held out the bracelet Morgana had given Arthur. His mentor took it from him carefully. He turned it over in his hands, bringing it close to his face and squinting slightly due to his failing eyesight. He hummed in contemplation.

"These markings," he said under his breath, more to himself than to his ward. "Druidic, I believe, but I don't think they have anything to do with the enchantment she placed on it. It does appear to have been a healing bracelet."

"But?" Merlin prompted, knowing there was a catch. The magic he could feel in the bracelet was definitely Morgana's. Merlin knew how the druids' magic felt, and it was practically antithetical to hers. This definitely had Morgana's fingerprints all over it and it couldn't possibly be for good.

"But we both know Morgana's intentions were anything but pure, so there must be another sort of enchantment on it. Something that would undo or counteract the healing magic of the bracelet," he explained. He puttered back toward his shelves of books and began pulling them off the shelves seemingly at random and flipping through pages before putting them back. He stopped on his fifth book, frowning down at it. "Maybe this." He handed the book to Merlin, who glanced down at the page.

"Reversing spells?" he asked, confused. "What does that mean? What would it do?"

"Spells of this kind can be used to reverse other kinds of magic and make them do the opposite of what they were intended to do," Gaius explained. "They can be used preemptively or after the fact, to reverse a spell which has not yet been cast or a spell that has already been placed on an object. I believe Morgana used one of these spells in an attempt to reverse the healing powers of the bracelet and make Arthur's injury worse. Luckily, Arthur is not actually injured. The bracelet should have little to no effect on his health."

"Not on his physical health," Merlin qualified. "Being in contact with Morgana's magic can't possibly be good for his magical health. And I doubt it does his mental health any favors knowing that she's actively trying to kill him." Gaius nodded his concession that Merlin had a point there. "So how do I take the spell off?"

"It would be easier just to destroy the bracelet," Gaius responded.

"Morgana will be suspicious then as to why he's not wearing it," Merlin pointed out.

"She will be suspicious if he's wearing it and not getting any worse," Gaius shot back. Merlin frowned in consternation.

"Maybe she'll just think that her spell went wrong?" he said hopefully. "I know Morgause helped foster her powers, but she's still learning."

"Do you want to take the risk of alerting her to your knowledge of her plans?"

"Well, I can't just let Arthur wear the damn thing!" Merlin exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "It may not actually harm him, but it makes him vastly uncomfortable. He can feel her magic and it's a horrible sensation, I know that much. And it seems to be a lot worse for him than it is for me. And she'll be alerted anyway, like you said, if he doesn't get any worse. But then she'll know that someone removed the enchantment. Maybe destroying it  _would_  be simpler." Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "I hope Arthur appreciates just how much trouble all of this causes me. And this is a  _small_  crisis. Barely even shows up on the scale of crises."

"I'm sure he does, my boy, now that he knows all," Gaius chuckled. Merlin groaned inwardly; Arthur didn't know anywhere near  _all_ , but there was no doubt he would eventually force Merlin to relate his entire tale from beginning to end, and the young warlock was not looking forward to the conversation. Gaius patted his ward on the shoulder and gave him a push toward his room. "Now get some sleep. I'm sure Arthur will want you to be on time tomorrow for more lessons. I daresay he's going to be a very eager student in this subject, more so than anything else he's ever studied."

"It's sort of hard to be disinterested when you're creating fire and moving things with your mind, Gaius," Merlin laughed. "It's enough to hold even Arthur's short attention span for a while. Make sure I wake up on time in the morning, will you?"

"Don't I always?"

"Not really, no."

"No guarantees, then."

"You're no help at all, Gaius, I swear."

"Go to bed, Merlin."

"You know, just because we now share an incredibly illegal secret, that doesn't mean you can get away with being late, Merlin."

"Oh? Then how did I manage to get away with it so often when  _I_  was the only one with an incredibly illegal secret?"

"And where's my breakfast?"

"…I may have forgotten to get it in my hurry to not be any later than I already was…"

"You really are useless,  _Mer_ lin."

"So you keep telling me, but you're still alive so far, aren't you? I have to be doing something right."

"I won't be if I die of hunger before you manage to do your job properly."

"You really are tetchy before you eat, did you know that?"

" _Go_ , Merlin."

"Alright, alright, I'm going."

Arthur watched his manservant flounce of the room, rolling his eyes and saying something about pratly princes, or maybe princely prats, Arthur couldn't really tell with the way he was mumbling. That left Arthur to recline on his bed, hands behind his head, and wait for the idiot to come back properly laden down with delicious food. He shot a glance at the slightly scorched bracelet on his bedside table, which Merlin had tossed there upon blundering into his room, rambling excuses about his tardiness as usual. He had meant to destroy it the night before, apparently, but had put it off until morning and then found that he wasn't sure  _how_  to destroy it, which had resulted in his being late for work. Again. He had managed to remove the enchantment on it in the end, but Arthur could still feel the residue of Morgana's spellwork on it and therefore left it alone on the table, not wanting to subject himself to that.

It was still there when the witch herself knocked on the door. Arthur had to force his expression to be pleasant when he saw her, his stomach twisting with anger and betrayal that she, who he had always considered to be a close friend and practically a sister, would try to kill him in such a way. She was probably here to check and see if the bracelet's magic was taking effect, acting under the guise of concern for his wellbeing. Arthur tamped down the feelings, knowing Morgana was probably the  _worst_  person possible for his magic to flare up around. He fixed a smile on his face and hoped that he was as good an actor as Morgana seemed to be.

"Morgana, what you brings you here again so soon?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual manner. "I think I've seen more of you in the last two days than in the last two weeks combined."

"Just checking up on you," she said, smiling benignly at him. He saw her eyes dart to his wrist, and confusion and anger dawned in her eyes as she saw that the bracelet was not there. Then she caught sight of it on his table. He hoped she didn't notice the scorch marks from Merlin's magic, but something told him she saw them and knew exactly what they meant. That would at least explain the thunderous expression that flitted across her face before she managed to fix one of mild hurt and offense back onto her face. "Why aren't you wearing the bracelet?"

"Morgana," he drawled out in a much exaggerated way, hoping to buy himself more time to think up a plausible excuse. "I feel fine," he settled on. He stood up from his bed in illustration of his improving health and crossed to glance out the window. "I don't  _need_  any healing bracelet. Not that it would've done any good to begin with. Really, Morgana, you should know better than to believe in any of that superstitious nonsense. Besides, wearing jewelry is really more your style than mine." Morgana has taken up the bracelet from the table and was scrutinizing it in what she seemed to think was a discreet way, tracing her fingers over the scorch marks on the metal's surface. The door opened again to reveal Gwen, who immediately looked flustered and embarrassed upon seeing Morgana there.

"Oh! My lady," she stammered, giving her a hurried bow. She looked at a bit of a loss as to what to say she was doing here, in Arthur's room. Then inspiration struck. "I was looking for you!" she said quickly. "You weren't in your room, and I thought you may have come here to see if Arthur was doing better, so I came by to check if you were here. And you are! So…er, I was wondering if…if I might have the evening off tonight. That is, if you don't need me for anything. If you do, I can always st—"

"Gwen!" Morgana cut in, holding a hand up to stop her maid's rambling. "You needn't be so nervous to ask for something like that. You know I'm more than glad to give you an evening to yourself. Take the whole day if you need it. It's no problem, really." Arthur fought down a laugh; it was obvious that Gwen had not been intending to ask for any such thing. She had been coming to see  _him_ , but she couldn't very well tell Morgana that. Not when their relationship was still so taboo and had been so recently threatened. Gwen smiled hastily and curtseyed to her mistress.

"Thank you, my lady," she said breathlessly. She shot a look back at Arthur, who smiled fondly at her. She smiled back. "Glad to see you on your feet, Arthur. Get well." She nodded at them both and then hurried away, ducking her head in embarrassment over the whole scene. She nearly ran right into Merlin outside the door and had to reach out to steady the full tray in his arms, apologizing hastily and blushing furiously. He just laughed and thanked her for the help. His laughter died away instantly upon seeing Morgana in Arthur's room. With the bracelet in hand. And Morgana's hands tightened around the piece of jewelry when she saw Merlin's eyes widen at the sight of it.

"Merlin," she said coldly in acknowledgement.

"My lady," he said, his voice equally frosty. He hurried to place the tray on the table and turned around almost immediately, like he was worried of leaving his back open to Morgana. "What brings you here this early?"

"Just checking in on Arthur, seeing how he's doing," she answered. Arthur almost scoffed, but restrained himself. She wanted it to sound as though she was concerned and wishing him well, while she was really looking in to see if her spell had killed him yet. Now her plans were thwarted and the suspicion in her guarded eyes was obvious. And dangerous. She seemed to be glaring daggers at Merlin, as though she knew it was all his fault. But Merlin had said that she  _didn't_ know about his magic, couldn't sense his like he could hers. So why would she be looking at him with such anger and suspicion? She turned to smile briefly at Arthur. "Well, I guess if you really don't want it." Then she swept out of the room, leaving them alone.

"I don't like this," Merlin muttered, his brow furrowed in worry.

"What can she do?" Arthur asked. It felt odd to be looking to Merlin for answers and instructions, but he was by far the more informed of the two, however loathe Arthur was to admit it. "It looked like she knew it had been rendered ineffective by magic. She knows I don't have magic—or at least she knows I  _didn't_ —but she doesn't know about yours either, you said. Why was she looking at you like that?"

"She may not know I have magic, but she does know that I manage to get in her way a lot more often than a normal servant should," Merlin said darkly. "And she may be piecing things together about me. She might already suspect that there's more to me than meets the eye."

"Why's that?" Merlin looked sheepish and ducked his head.

"I  _may_  have followed her out into the woods when she was meeting with Morgause a while back. And I  _may_  have been caught." Arthur's eyes widened in shock and concern.

"What happened?" he demanded. "How did you get away without revealing yourself?"

"Well, I tried to run at first. That didn't work out too well. When I came too after being knocked out, I was bound and being threatened by Morgause. They left me in the middle of serket-infested woods to die. The chains…" He hesitated, looking like he had just stopped himself from saying something incriminating. "…were magical, but I managed to break them eventually. I roasted all the serkets, but I got stung too. I had to wait it out until I was well enough to heal myself the rest of the way and make my way back to Camelot. Morgause and Morgana were furious that I survived, and they still don't know how I did. I wouldn't be surprised if they put two and two together." Arthur narrowed his eyes at his servant but Merlin just set about cleaning up the room, avoiding his master's shrewd gaze. There was definitely something missing in that story. Sensing that this might be another one of those "secrets for another time," Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance.

"So what do you expect she's going to do? If she suspects you of having something to do with foiling her newest evil plot, what can she do about it?"

"I expect she'll meet up with Morgause again and figure out a new plan," Merlin said. He moved to look out the window as if waiting for Morgana to ride out then and there. "Should I follow her, if she does? Or would that only make things worse?"

"Considering how lacking you are in stealth, I think it could only end badly. Especially because the  _last_ time made it so obvious that you either used magic or had outside help," Arthur said. He noticed Merlin gave a little double take, but he didn't know what that could mean. He frowned. "Don't follow her if she leaves. We'll handle whatever she throws at us when it comes." Merlin nodded.

"Let's just hope she's going for just  _you_  in this next scheme," he said. "I don't know how discreetly I'd be able to take care of another large-scale attack on the entire kingdom. Those have a tendency to get rather messy."

"Don't I know it."

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I remembered. Look at me go.

"Go on, Gwen, I know you have plans tonight," Morgana said, smiling warmly over her shoulder at her maidservant. The maid in question glanced up from her laundry folding, looking rather confused. "I don't want to keep you from your evening. I don't need anything else today, and I'm sure I can handle getting myself into bed." Comprehension dawned on her tanned face and she dropped the dress she had been folding so carefully, looking distinctly ruffled, and curtseyed. She hurried out the door with a murmured thank you and the smile slid off Morgana's face as soon as she was out of sight. It was painfully obvious that Gwen had no plans for the evening, but her chosen cover story had been quite convenient for her mistress; Morgana didn't fancy having to come up with excuses to give her maid that night. She had, of course, known why the girl was at Arthur's rooms, anyone who had ever met them would have known, and it made her lip curl upwards in disgust. Before, she had always counted Gwen to be one of her closest friends, but not anymore. Now the girl was trying her mistress's nerves more and more with her devotion to Arthur and Camelot and all that nonsense.

And, of course, she still had the nagging image of that lowly maid with  _Morgana's_  crown on her unruly head, the crown that would signify the clandestine princess's rightful claim to the throne of Camelot and the title of Queen. Morgana would rather die than see Guinevere sitting upon her throne, tainting it with her commonness. Her last attempt at ridding herself of that little issue hadn't worked exactly gone to plan. That old man, that Dragoon, had taken the credit for casting an enchantment that had never been put in place to begin with. It didn't make any sense and she couldn't make heads or tails of it. How could the old sorcerer have known about the accusations so soon after they had been made? And what would possess him to put himself in that dangerous of a position, to get himself caught practicing sorcery in Camelot? Against the Crown Prince, no less. And  _why_? That was what bothered her the most. The only reason she could possibly come up with was that he wanted to get Gwen out of trouble, to prove that she hadn't been a sorceress enchanting Arthur into loving her, and the only way to prove it hadn't been her was to prove it had been someone else, even if it hadn't been. But what sorcerer would go to such lengths for someone he didn't even know? Unless Gwen  _did_ know him. But she pushed that notion aside immediately; the thought of a sorcerer working for Gwen and Arthur was inconceivable and more than a little upsetting.

Morgana found that, in her consternation and her frustration, she was gripping her hairbrush so hard that her knuckles had gone white. She put it down hastily and, coming to a quick decision, raised her hand to her mirror. She incanted the useful little spell Morgause had taught her for occasions such as these when they needed to communicate quickly and secretly. Her mirror fogged over immediately and she reached forward to scrawl her message across its surface with one fingertip, knowing that it would appear instantly on the corresponding mirror belonging to her half-sister.

_Meet me in the Darkling Woods at nightfall. We have something to discuss._

She waved her hand over the message, words of the Old Tongue on her lips and her eyes flashing gold, and it faded slowly away until the mirror was clean and clear again without a trace of the traitorous message that had been written there. Smirking, she moved to retrieve her long purple cloak from her wardrobe. She slung it over her shoulders and retrieved a woven basket from where it had long since taken up residence on the top of her wardrobe, one she had often used to collect flowers in her younger and more innocent days; it would serve as good cover for her expedition tonight. Hopefully no one would feel the need to ask her destination if it seemed obvious where she must be going and why. With some help from her magic, they would not question her absence or notice that she hadn't returned before the gate closed for the night. She would sneak back in after the chat with her sister with a few simple spells, like she usually did.

Morgana ambled down through the castle to the courtyard, smiling at everyone she passed and trying to look as cheerful and unconcerned as possible. All the forced merriment made her skin crawl, but she knew she had to keep up the pretense of being happy and content with her life in Camelot. The townspeople nodded back with smiles of their own, all evidently still feeling the relief her safe return to them after her year of captivity had brought them, and parting before the king's ward respectfully to allow her easy passage through the crowds of the bustling marketplace; even though the sun was already on well on its way to setting, the lower town was still full of people and activity to shield her from view. She reached the gate with no trouble and whispered a spell that would cause the guards' attention to be diverted elsewhere so she could pass them by without their notice. That way they would not remember seeing her leave, and therefore would not be worried if she did not return. She reached the edge of the Darkling Woods just as true dusk began to fall. She did not have to wait long. Soon she heard a rustling sound from behind her and she spun to face the trees, a true smile growing on her face.

"Sister!" Morgause emerged from the darkness a moment later, pulling down the hood of her blue cloak as she strode forward. Her long blonde hair and sharp brown eyes gleamed in the light of the ascending moon. They drew a stark contrast between Morgana's own midnight black tresses and eyes of sea foam green. For being sisters—albeit only half—Morgana knew there was really very little family resemblance to be seen between them. Only their strikingly upper-class features, the magic they had inherited from their mother, and their desperate desire to see Uther Pendragon off the throne and magic returned to the land would mark them as kin. "Why have you summoned me here so suddenly? You sounded urgent in your message."

In response, Morgana held out the bracelet she had taken from Arthur's room. Morgause took it from her and examined it with the trained eye of a High Priestess of the Old Religion. She could just barely feel a trace of foreign magic emanating from it; powerful magic had been used to break the enchantment her sister had placed there. The magical residue corresponding with the burns decorating the metal told her all she needed to know. Someone with magic had detected the enchantment on the bracelet, determined what it was and why it was there, and found a way to remove it. It had to have been someone with magic strong enough to feel that contained within the bracelet, or someone who had reason to believe the innocent gift was not all that it seemed and have it tested in some way. One option seemed more likely than the other.

"Someone suspects you," she said.

"Merlin again, no doubt," Morgana spat, bitterness and hatred dripping from her voice. "That boy continues to be a thorn in my side. I expect he took the bracelet to Gaius to make sure it was what I said it was. Obviously, it wasn't. If anyone would be able to ferret out our plans, it would be the old wretched man." Once she would have spoken fondly of Gaius. But that was before he had become so attached to Merlin, the betrayer, the  _murderer_. And it was before she knew that Gaius had been a sorcerer before the time of the Great Purge. So why hadn't he come to her aid? Surely he had recognized the signs of magic when they manifested themselves in Morgana. Why had he seen fit to play them down and pretend he did not see, to keep her in the dark? He left her alone, frightened of what was happening to her, fearing and loathing her very being as she slowly became what she had always been told was evil. Gaius, as a magic-wielder himself, was equipped to train her, or at the very least explain what was happening, but he hadn't. And she hated him for that.

"You think Gaius destroyed it?" Morgause asked, sounding a bit skeptical; she had had encounters with the man before and he did not seem to hold any remarkable amount of power. She was hesitant to believe that he could have made the marks upon the bracelet.

"I see no other explanation." Morgause didn't respond and Morgana, who had taken to pacing in her agitation and frustration, did not see the way her eyes narrowed discerningly; this conclusion obviously did not sit well with her. Her suspicions for another were growing quickly, but she knew they would be dismissed offhand if she brought them up, so she kept them to herself. She would watch and wait until her suspicions were either confirmed or proven to be baseless. Morgana turned to face her, looking every bit the princess she truly was, acknowledged or not. "We need a new strategy. And I believe I have one which may be considerably…neater…than our previous ventures."

"Neater?"

"We have been messy, Morgause," Morgana sighed. "We've tried to take the kingdom with brute strength and failed, only managing to kill hundreds of people on both sides without achieving our goal. We attempted to have Uther discredited by driving him mad, but it didn't stick—I suspect Gaius and Merlin's involvement in that, as well." Again, she did not notice Morgause' small nod. "Any number of angles we're tried. We've attacked with brute strength and with cunning, but neither has worked; they have only succeeded in taking innocent lives and sparing those that really deserve to be taken."

"And you have a better idea?" Morgause asked, sounding the slightest bit miffed that her sister was less than pleased with their previous endeavors.

"The ideas were sound, Morgause," Morgana assured her quickly. "But each time there was something that went wrong, someone who got in the way. My plan has less of a chance of that happening. This time, we go for an emotional blow." Morgause' eyebrow raised in intrigue and Morgana smirked at her. "We send out a large contingent of ruthless bandits to kill Arthur on a hunting trip, and make sure they target that irritating servant as well and make sure he stays dead for once. Arthur's death will  _break_  Uther completely, and who will be left to pick up the pieces but his sweet and loving ward?" She smiled, her expression practically dripping with syrupy sweetness in a way that made her cringe internally. Uther would lap it up, though, and that's all that really mattered. Then her expression darkened to one of ruthless pleasure. "With Merlin out of the way, no one will be left who doubts my motives. Gaius might, but his sense of self-preservation will trump his loyalty and he will bow to me in time, I have no doubt; after all, he forsook his magic when Uther turned on him and watched his kin die with impunity. Without his Crown Prince, Uther will have no choice but to acknowledge me as the rightful heir to the throne. As soon as he has made it official, we can arrange a quiet assassination and I can take the throne through perfectly legitimate means and with as little bloodshed as possible. No one could challenge me, and I would have my crown and Uther's defeat at long last." Morgause took a moment to mull this over, thinking on how this plan might be affected if her suspicions proved to be correct. She would have to be there, she decided, at this attack. Hidden, of course, but she wanted to be there to observe. She smiled brilliantly at her younger sister.

"It may just work, my sister," she said. "You must keep me informed of your dear half-brother's movements until I have a proper force gathered. How many men do you think will be necessary?"

"If it's just him and Merlin, maybe thirty," Morgana said. "We can't afford to let them escape. If there are others there as well, we'll have to up the numbers accordingly. Arthur is a formidable warrior, as are his knights, and they will fight admirably, I'm sure," she sneered in distaste. "I will keep you updated. I will message you as soon as Arthur is moving into a suitable position. Be ready to move when I give the signal."

"I will be, sister." Morgause moved forward to kiss Morgana on the forehead. "Be careful, as always. You are behind enemy lines and as such must be cautious. Remember the reasons for which you suffer and the future for which you fight. The crown will be yours and Uther Pendragon's blood will be on your hands soon enough." The thought was enough to bring an exhilarated smile to her face and a maniacal gleam to her eye, though she couldn't see it herself. Morgana could, however, and it brought a similar expression to her own.

"Farewell, sister," Morgana said, feeling an upwelling of love and affection for her older sister, the only person who knew her in her entirety and accepted her fully. The person who had taken her away from all the fear and indecision and shown her exactly miracles she could do with the magnificent powers she possessed. Morgause had opened her eyes to the wonders of magic and closed her heart to the betrayers she had once counted as friends, even family. Morgause was her only real family, even if she did share equal blood with Uther and Arthur. Morgana knew where her loyalty lay, and it wasn't with her namesake.

Morgana pulled her sister into a hug, holding her tightly, then swept back toward Camelot without a backward glance. She pulled up her hood to hide her face in shadows and whispered a spell that would hide her from the guards' eyes as she passed them. She couldn't stop the wicked smirk that formed on her face; soon Arthur would die and she would take his title and his crown. And Merlin, that meddlesome little whelp, would die with him. They would both be out of her way within days and her path to the throne would finally be clear. Everything was looking up for her.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at keeping to a schedule, but whatever. Here, have another chapter.

"I'm  _bored_."

"And how is that supposed to be my fault?"

"It's always your fault,  _Mer_ lin, I thought you'd know that by now."

"How can you possibly be bored already with all we've been doing?"

"We've been in this room for five days! I want to go outside."

"You realize you sound like a whiny five-year-old, don't you?"

" _Mer_ lin."

"We've been over this before, Arthur. It's still too dangerous for you to interact with people who don't know."

Arthur groaned exaggeratedly and flopped down on his bed, landing face first in a pile of decorative pillows. Merlin sniggered behind him as he tidied up the room, which was even messier than usual due to its occupant's constant presence and increasingly bad mood. Arthur had taken to throwing things recently—more than usual, that is. He really was growing incredibly restless. True, there were things to occupy his time, but they weren't the sort of things he wanted to be doing. Arthur was a man of action and he wanted nothing more than to be outside training with his knights again. Instead, he was stuck in here with his talkative and distinctly athletically-challenged manservant. Some of the time was spent with Merlin, spellbook in front of him, instructing Arthur in some of the smaller spells to get him used to using his magic. Other times Merlin would random launch something across the room and Arthur would have to work hard in order to  _not_ stop it, tamping his magic down so as to allow him to be hit in the face with a pillow or catch the goblet with his natural reflexes as he would have done before The Incident, as he had taken to calling it. Sometimes Merlin would sit Arthur down and drill words of the Old Language into his head, trying to familiarize him enough so that he could read and study spells on his own time with Merlin translating from over his shoulder. They had just finished one such session and Arthur was feeling rather belligerent and stir-crazy.

"I can't stay in this thrice-blasted room for another day," Arthur tried to say, but his voice was completely muffled by the throw pillow into which he had face-planted. Merlin got the gist, though, and rolled his eyes.

"We'll be able to let you out soon, I promise," he assured the prince. "You're getting much better at holding in the reflexive magic, and your emotions have been holding pretty steady lately, haven't they?" Arthur rolled onto his back and glared at Merlin.

"Yes, mother, I'm feeling fine," he snapped sarcastically. "I haven't blown anything up lately, have I?" Merlin looked at him blankly for a moment, then bit his lip and tried unsuccessfully to stifle growing giggles. Arthur's scowl intensified. "And  _what_ , pray tell, is so damnably funny about this,  _Mer_ lin?"

"I believe I actually said that exactly sentence to my mother when I was maybe thirteen," Merlin admitted, losing his battle with hilarity and letting himself chuckle heartily. "With just that expression too, I think."

"The fact remains," Arthur said loudly, putting on his most dignified expression and staunchly ignoring Merlin's disrespectful comment and continued sniggering, "that I  _haven't_  blown anything up lately, even though Morgana keeps visiting and pretending she doesn't want to see my head on a pike and my crown on her traitorous head."

"I don't see why she keeps coming here," Merlin admitted in frustration, sobering up quickly. "Asking how you're feeling and when you're going to go back to training and all that. I don't remember her ever visiting you this much when you were injured in the past, even back before she developed her magic and really  _was_  concerned about your health. It all strikes me as highly suspicious. She has got to be fishing for something."

"I don't know, but I still want to get out of here," Arthur griped. "It would be bad enough if I was actually injured, but I'm  _not_. In fact, I feel better than I've ever felt in my life and I just want to get out and move and  _do_  something. I can't stand being cooped up in here when I have all this energy."

"That would be the magic," Merlin said, picking up Arthur's sword for sharpening even though it hadn't been dulled at all since the last time he'd polished it. He, too, was going a little stir-crazy from sitting in this room all day. He was just as accustomed to action and fighting as Arthur was, albeit of a slightly different nature, maybe even more so seeing as many of his secret magical struggles happened when Arthur was having a day off. Merlin didn't think he'd ever had so much down time. If he could really call this down time. More like babysitting, really. But he would never say that to Arthur lest he get pelted with goblets. Again. "You wonder why I'm always such an eternally perky person? That's why."

"I want to learn something bigger," Arthur told him, sitting up suddenly. Merlin raised an eyebrow. "All the spells you've taught me so far have been paltry little tricks, nothing really substantial. They've all had to be small enough to fit in this room and not do damage to anything. Nothing you've taught me will be of any use in a fight, if it comes down to it. What if I get captured and disarmed and need to fight with magic? I won't know how."

"You wouldn't need to. That's what I'm for, remember?" Merlin argued.

"What if I were separated from you?" Arthur continued stubbornly. "Face it. It would prudent for me to learn from offensive magic. And we can't do that in here in this little room in the middle of the castle." Merlin rolled his eyes, annoyed at the turn the conversation had taken and the perfectly logical conclusions Arthur was drawing.

"You may have a point, but what would we tell people?" Merlin conceded. "You're supposed to still be recovering from a nasty head injury, you can't just go traipsing off into the woods. And we would have to go pretty far into the woods, if we're going in the daytime, to be sure we won't be spotted or run across by bandits or anything. Magic like that would draw the attention of anyone in the vicinity, believe me, I would know."

"Get Gaius to tell my father that some fresh air would do me good and speed up my healing," Arthur said immediately. "He listens to everything Gaius says, he'll be sure to let me go then. If he insists on a guard, we'll take one or two of the knights with us. Lancelot and Gwaine, maybe. I'm sure Gwaine would jump at the chance to watch us practice magic."

"I don't know," Merlin said reluctantly, still unconvinced of the advisability of this plan of action. Then Arthur put on his best puppy-dog face, pouting heavily and attempting to look as miserable as possible. Merlin stared at him for a moment, trying very hard to keep a straight face and look stern, but eventually he broke, as Arthur had surely known he would. "Fine."

" _Yes!_ "

An hour later they were on horseback, Gwaine and Lancelot riding on either side of them, trotting easily out of the city gates. Uther had been a bit hesitant at the prospect of letting Arthur out of the city, but had eventually conceded upon Arthur's pleading to be let out and Gaius' insistence that it was for the best. As expected, he had indeed insisted that Arthur bring along some knights for protection, but that was fine by them. Gwaine had to work to hide his enthusiasm at the prospect when Arthur had called him forward to accompany them and Lancelot had just smiled knowingly at the pair of them. Morgana had played the part of the concerned friend quite well and Uther had smiled adoringly at her; Arthur had had to fight down his magic and wrestle it into submission as his anger and disgust for her flared at the look his father sent the traitor, but had managed to keep control of it and prevent any unfortunate outbursts. He could practically feel Merlin's proud grin on his back and was a little bit embarrassed at how it made him smile as well. He had been so caught up in his internal struggle and the subsequent rush of relief and pride that he had missed Morgana's smirk as she turned away from the small group, and the way her hand trailed to her pocket, but Merlin hadn't. His eyes had narrowed in distrust but he had had no reason to say anything to the others about it.

They spent the ride with Gwaine pelting Merlin with questions about magic and Merlin answering them with an air of tolerant patience. Arthur still had the bandages wrapped around his head on Gaius' insistence—"Head wounds take time to heal, sire. If we want to avoid raising suspicion, we must keep up the pretense and make it as believable as possible. We can give no one reason to doubt our claims."—and he tried to keep from scratching at them until they were out of sight of the city walls. Once they were well away, he pulled them off with a sigh of relief and ran his fingers through his hair. The knights then allowed Merlin to take the lead, strange as that felt, and followed him for another half hour or so until they entered a large clearing with a wonderful view of the castle over the tree line to the west.

"This should do nicely," Merlin said as he dismounted his horse. The others followed suit and they tied them up a ways back into the woods at Merlin's request; he didn't want them to be unduly spooked by the undoubtedly loud and flashy magic they would eventually be practicing. "But I don't want to start with the magic, Arthur."

"What?" Gwaine called, dismayed.

"I want to check something else first, something I've been wondering about."

"And what would that be?" Arthur asked.

"I want to see how your magic will affect your sword fighting," Merlin said. Arthur's brow furrowed.

"Why would it affect that?" he asked, making sure to keep worry out of his voice. He sure  _hoped_  having magic wouldn't affect his skill with a blade. He couldn't afford to let it upset his fighting style, not when he had a reputation as the best warrior in all the five kingdoms. He could only imagine his humiliation if he was bested in a tournament because his attention was concentrated on not lashing out at his opponent with magic.

"It might not, I'm not sure," Merlin allowed. "I'm obviously  _not_ a swordsman, so I don't know how it may or may not affect the way you handle yourself or the sword, but it's definitely a high pressure situation where you could easily reveal yourself without meaning to. We need to make sure you can keep a lid on your magic before you go back to training and have to fight people who don't know about it." Arthur was a little bit relieved to hear that Merlin wasn't necessarily worried about his mastery of swordplay being threatened, but more about his potential unconscious magical reaction to an attack. He had to acknowledge that his servant might have a point in that regard.

"Alright, fine. How do we go about testing this?" he asked. Merlin looked over his shoulder at Lancelot and Gwaine with an impish smirk.

"Attack him," he ordered them. Lancelot drew his sword obediently and held it at the ready. Gwaine, on the other hand, let out a whoop and punched the air, grinning mischievously before drawing his own.

"With pleasure," he said, winking roguishly. Then he ran forward and slashed at Arthur, whose magic reacted before he had even drawn his sword. Gwaine was forced sideways, his sword diverted by an invisible force.

"Hold it in, Arthur!" Merlin called. Arthur growled in annoyance and drew his blade to parry a blow from Lancelot, then immediately pivoted to block one from Gwaine. The battle drew on for several minutes, Arthur's reflexes dampened ever so slightly by his struggle to contain his eager magic. More than once Merlin had to use his own magic to catch one of the other knights before he was slammed backward into a tree by an outburst from Arthur. Eventually, though, Arthur managed to force his magic into submission and forget about it for a moment and his attacks began coming more quickly, his parries more skillfully. Even though Lancelot and Gwaine were his two best knights, Arthur still managed to hold them both off until Merlin finally called for the fight's conclusion after several minutes of battle without a magical flare-up. All three knights collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion, each of them panting and sweating and bruised.

"See?" Merlin said smugly after he had fetched their waterskins for them. "It's something you'll always have to have in the back of your mind, even if you're fighting for your life."

"That's exhausting, Merlin," Arthur puffed. "Do you really have to do that all the time?"

"Yup," Merlin said, popping the "p" in the most obnoxious way he could. He sprawled down beside Arthur on the ground, leaning back on his elbows. "You always call me a coward for avoiding fights—which is completely unfair seeing as I don't even have any training in swordfighting and therefore should not have been expected to fight anyway—but that's the real reason why I was never in the midst of the battles. And because I'm so much more useful hiding away in the trees and dropping branches on your opponents and tripping them and making their weapons get stuck in trees and shields and all of that. I'll have you know that I've turned the tide of many a battle while hiding behind a tree, Arthur."

"Good, I'm glad you were doing  _something_  useful for once," Arthur scoffed. Merlin fully intended to send a snappy retort in his direction but cut himself off abruptly when he felt a tiny niggling at his magic. His head snapped around to his right and he stared off into the woods, hoping to see what had caused the feeling. He felt it again, a light brushing of another's magic against his own. Someone was out there, someone with a formidable amount of magic for Merlin to be able to sense it from this great a distance, and he knew it couldn't possibly bode well for them. Arthur, seeing his servant's sudden distraction and wary expression, sat up straighter and looked around as well, warrior instincts kicking in immediately. He listened intently and didn't hear any of the usual animal noises one would expect to hear in the forest, no rustlings or bird calls or chattering of small animals. That was not a good sign. Then he heard the snap of a twig somewhere in the direction Merlin had been looking. Immediately all four men were on their feet and on high alert, swords at the ready once again.

At least fifty men came swarming out of the trees toward them, harsh battle cries on their lips. Arthur, Lancelot and Gwaine threw themselves into the fray without a second thought, slashing and battling with a ferocity unmatched by any but a Knight of Camelot. Merlin scrambled backward from a snarling bandit and hid himself away, as he always did, in the shadow of a tree. Eyes glowing, he did just as he had been telling Arthur, tripping bandits and forcing weapons out of their hands and turning helmets around to obstruct their vision, anything to help the struggling knights. As talented and skillful as the three of them were, they were still vastly outnumbered and they were tiring quickly in the face of so many men.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled over his shoulder in desperation as he struggled to hold off three adversaries at once. "There's too many! Do something!"

Merlin hesitated for a moment before strengthening his resolve; Arthur was in trouble, and Lancelot and Gwaine as well. His friends were in danger and now they were looking to him for help. As much as he hated it, he had the power to end this fight here and now. So, taking a deep breath, he stepped out from behind the tree and called for his friends to get back out of the way. They each dispatched their foes as quickly as possible and retreated to his side. The bandits howled and rushed toward him but Merlin simply held up his hand and roared " _Àstrìce!_ " His eyes flashed brightly as his magic surged up and out, and every man still standing was thrown backwards by a violent force, flying through the air and crashing into the unrelenting ground with a series of sickening crunches or being hurled into trees before crumpling at their bases. Not one of them so much as stirred and a heavy silence fell. Merlin lowered his shaking hand, releasing a sharp breath, and averted his eyes from the destruction he had wrought.

Arthur and the others stared in open awe and shock at this display of power. They had known he was powerful, had seen the evidence when he had all but exploded with light and magic while healing Arthur's mortal wound, but this just seemed much more so for some reason. To see Merlin, docile and kind and humble Merlin, stand tall and firm before them and force back a legion of vicious bandits with a word and a wave of his hand was staggering. It made Arthur wonder about his own magic. Would he have been able to do that? He had already proven to be stronger than Morgana in some ways, but where did he really fall on the spectrum? How powerful was he in comparison to Merlin? Merlin who was Emrys, a figure of legend and prophecy. Arthur hadn't truly realized what that meant before that moment. He thought he did now. Never before had Arthur seen Merlin look so grave, so determined, so very commanding. It almost rendered him unrecognizable. That hadn't just been Merlin; that had been Emrys in all his magnificence. But then that formidable sorcerer image had gone so suddenly, to be replaced by the same gentle young man he had always known, the one who had to turn away from violence, even that done by his own hand. Maybe  _especially_ that done by his own hand. Merlin looked simply devastated by his own actions.

Arthur sheathed his sword and stepped forward to put a hand on his manservant's thin shoulder. He felt a small rush of magic between them, saw Merlin's eyes flicker with dull gold, a bare echo of the brilliance they had held a moment ago, and knew his own were mirroring them. As the days had gone by and Arthur had gained more and more control over his magic, this physical and magical connection had weakened. They had made it through all of the previous day without connecting in this way at all; they had taken this to be a good sign, as it meant they wouldn't have to police their every interaction in public to avoid giving themselves away with flashing eyes when they brushed hands or something. They had thought the link had dissipated completely, but now Arthur found himself glad for it. The exchange of energies seemed to give Merlin a bit of strength, allowing him to raise his head. He turned to look at him and Arthur saw a slight glistening of unshed tears in his eyes.

"It was necessary," Arthur said gently. "It was a fight we couldn't have won. We would all have been killed otherwise. You saved our lives, Merlin."

"At what cost?" he asked, his voice thick. "I just killed fifty men, Arthur." The thought of it nearly made him sick. Sure, he had killed before, but never in such magnitude, never on such a large scale, and his stomach revolted as he looked out on the field of corpses. He had cut down fifty men with no trouble at all. It was just  _so easy_  to slay them all at once, an effortless mass murder, and that thought scared him more than anything else in the world.

"In self-defense and the protection of your friends," Lancelot said, coming up to place his hand reassuringly on Merlin's back. Merlin clung to that thought, pushing back the voice in the back of his head that called him a monster and a murderer. Arthur had been in peril. He would do it again, he knew that without a doubt, but that didn't mean it didn't kill him inside to be the one to bring about such devastation and death.

"Yeah, thanks for that, mate," Gwaine said, shouldering the other two out of the way and throwing his arm around Merlin's neck with so much force it nearly knocked the lighter man over. "I really do prefer being alive, don't you?" Merlin chuckled and wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Yeah, I do," he said weakly. "But I hate having to kill to stay that way."

"We all do," Arthur told him. As a warrior and a knight, he had done more than his fair share of killing and it still pained him sometimes. He had long since tried to harden himself to the sting of taking a life, but part of him was glad he could still feel it; it let him know that he still valued human life and wanted to preserve it if at all possible. But the problem was that it wasn't always possible. Occasionally certain lives had to be taken for other lives to be saved. "Sometimes we have no choice."

"There's always a choice, Arthur. Sometimes it's just between two evils," Merlin said, shaking his head wearily. He suddenly had the look of someone who had seen and done far too much and bore the scars to prove it. It made Arthur wonder just how many of these sorts of choices Merlin had had to make over the years, how many lesser evils the young man, barely more than a boy really, had piled on his already sensitive conscience. Far too many, obviously. And this was just one more to add to his grief.

"Come on, I think that's enough excitement for today," he said, turning to lead the way back toward the horses, who were prancing anxiously and tugging at their tethers.

"Don't you want to practice?" Merlin asked, but he sounded a little bit reluctant to bring it up. Arthur looked back at him and saw that Merlin looked drained, maybe not physically or magically but definitely emotionally. That boy needed a break and some time alone to come to terms with the events of the day.

"We can practice another day," he decided firmly. "Besides, I don't think I want to stay here any longer than necessary, do you?" Merlin glanced back at the clearing full of the dead— _his_  dead—and shuddered in repulsion and horror. He shook his head vehemently and hurried to untie his horse with slightly trembling fingers. They mounted quickly and rode back toward Camelot, the knights working hard to keep Merlin occupied with mindless chatter and battles of wits. None of them saw the witch staring inscrutably after them from the other side of the demolished clearing.

Morgause watched them go, still having trouble comprehending what she had just witnessed. She had had her suspicions about Merlin, had thought he might have possessed some magic, but she had certainly not expected anything like the exhibition she had seen in that clearing. That was no trivial magic, no little parlor tricks from a dedicated serving boy with a keen eye for danger to his master. That had been an impressive display of power. And it hadn't seemed to weaken the boy, either, like it should have. That sort of a spell might have put a strain on even her own reserves, but he hadn't even seemed affected in the slightest by the vast outpouring of magic. It worried her. And it would surely worry Morgana as well.

And yet she hesitated to tell Morgana. She wondered if her sister was too emotionally invested in the boy to be trusted with this knowledge. She knew that Morgana would likely scoff at the implication that Merlin was a sorcerer and Morgause would be hard pressed to convince her of that fact. And if Morgause did manage to persuade her of Merlin's magic, there was no telling what she would do. Morgana was a headstrong thing, powerful and skilled but still impulsive and hard to control. There was no telling how she would react to this little revelation. Morgause would need to have a plan ready to present to Morgana, something to keep her from acting rashly. A smirk grew on Morgause' face as she watched the small group disappear into the trees in the direction of Camelot. Yes, she had a plan alright.  _You will pay, Merlin. I guarantee it._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever put a disclaimer on this story? Cuz, you know, I don't own Merlin. I don't own anything really. I'm pretty broke.

Merlin was very grateful for the knights' playful banter on the ride back, even if it was a bit strained. He knew he wouldn't have been able to keep his mind off the bandits and their fate if it weren't for their efforts. Even with Gwaine and Arthur arguing good-naturedly over his head about one of the drunk's saucy tavern stories, he had trouble keeping his usually snappy commentary coming at the normal rate, so caught up he was in his internal contemplations.  _Fifty men_ , he thought, still confounded by the number alone.  _Fifty men I killed. So easily. Just like that._  He watched them again in his mind's eye, flying through the air and crashing back down, their necks breaking upon impact. He struggled once again to repress the small voice whispering  _murderer…murderer…_

_No_ , he told it resolutely.  _I am not a murderer. It was kill or be killed, that's what it comes down to. Arthur understands why I had to do it, and that's all that really matters_. They were being attacked and there had been no other acceptable course of action but to attack back. The other option had been to let them all die. He couldn't have done that, it was absolutely unconscionable. A world without Arthur in it, great and momentous destiny notwithstanding, was unthinkable. As much as Merlin hated killing, he couldn't have let Arthur, himself, or his friends die. Taking out the bandits had been, as he'd told Arthur, the lesser of two evils. He had made a choice, one that would weigh him down like all the others, but knew in his heart that it was one he would make again in a heartbeat. And which he knew he would most likely have to make again, over and over throughout his life; Arthur's life was threatened frighteningly often.

Merlin looked up to find that they were riding through the gates already, the knights still bantering around him. They passed the reins of their horses to a couple of timid stable boys and Gwaine immediately dragged Lancelot off to the tavern—"Don't you dare claim you  _don't_  want a tankard of good ale after a fight like that!"—so Merlin was left to follow Arthur listlessly back to his chambers, trying to hold in his melancholy air. It lifted slightly when Arthur fell back to walk beside him and then bumped him with his shoulder, smiling gently at him. Merlin smiled as well and bumped him back, a little harder. It was a mark of Arthur's concern for Merlin that he let him have the last word, so to speak, and didn't ram him into a wall or chase him down the corridor. Instead they continued in companionable silence. They rounded the corner to Arthur's room then and saw the one thing that could drag Merlin's mood down even further.

Morgana was just coming around the other corner, smirking smugly about something with the folds of her emerald green dress billowing out behind her impressively. She stopped dead in the middle of the corridor when she caught sight of them striding toward her. She looked shocked for a few seconds, then her expression became absolutely thunderous. Arthur wouldn't have been surprised at that moment if she had started shooting lightning bolts from her eyes. Without bothering to try and school her expression into something less blatantly hostile, Morgana turned on her heel and strode quickly back the direction she had come from.

"Didn't exactly look pleased to see us, did she?" Arthur said tartly. He opened the door to his room and waved Merlin inside.

"No. No, she didn't," he agreed, narrowed eyes still on the corner Morgana had turned. His thoughts strayed back to her smirk as they had been leaving the castle, that hand that had strayed to her pocket. A conclusion formed in his mind, one that was distinctly unsavory but entirely too likely. He tore himself away from the empty corridor and entered Arthur's room, head down and mind whirring. "Something tells me those bandits didn't come across us by accident," he said darkly.

"You think Morgana sent them?" Arthur asked, closing the door behind him. Merlin went to nod but then stopped, his head jerking up and his eyes wide. Something else had clicked in his memory, something that did not bode well at all.

"Oh no," he said in horror, his suddenly hoarse voice barely above his whisper.

"What? What's the matter?" Arthur asked, concerned and a little alarmed by his friend's blank and disturbed expression all of the sudden.

"Morgause was there," Merlin said.

"Morgause? Where? What are you talking about?"

"At the attack in the clearing. She was  _there_ , I could feel it!" Merlin was pacing now, his nervous energy needing a release that wasn't in the form of a magical explosion. "That's what caught my attention in the first place; I could sense someone magical nearby, someone strong, but then I was distracted by the bandits and I forgot about it until now. Morgana and Morgause set up the attack, that's for sure, but Morgause was there. Probably wanted to make absolutely sure we were killed. But we  _weren't_. And that means—"

"That means Morgause knows about your magic," Arthur said, the horror dawning on him as well as he contemplated the full implications of that. "That's bad."

"Incredibly so," Merlin said. His mouth had become very dry and he doubted getting a drink would remedy that. His fingers threaded in his hair and tugged, his footsteps falling faster as he paced back and forth in front of Arthur's window. "This is bad, really, really bad…maybe I could…no, no, that would be monumentally stupid…but maybe if I could just…no…if she…I need to talk to the d—" But he brought himself up short, glancing not so subtly at Arthur, who raised an eyebrow in question to his unfinished sentence.

"You need to talk to who now?" he asked. Merlin's mouth opened then closed with a snap. He was at a loss as to how to persuasively cover his slip of the tongue.

"Er…no one," he said, nonchalantly and entirely unconvincingly.

"Merlin, talk to  _whom_?" Arthur asked insistently, putting his hands on his hips so as to look more intimidating. Not that  _that_  trick had ever worked on Merlin before.

"N-no one, just…G-Gaius," Merlin stammered, eyes wide and an expression of complete wide-eyed innocence on his face. Arthur had seen that face far too many times in the last few years and now knew it for what it really was: his  _lying_  face.

" _Mer_ lin, if you don't—"

"Am I interrupting something?" Arthur turned to see Gwen standing in the doorway, biting her lip and wringing her hands in her skirts.

"No! No, you're not interrupting anything at all, come right in," Merlin said quickly, moving to usher her into the room and shut the door behind her. Arthur sent him a glare that said very clearly that the conversation was  _not_  over, but Merlin ignored it. "What brings you here?"

"I saw you crossing the courtyard. Thought I'd drop in. I haven't really gotten to see you in a few days," she said to Arthur. She crossed to him and he pulled her close immediately, kissing her gently. She responded in kind and then melted into his arms. She fit there perfectly and Arthur's magic seemed to hum in contentment. Merlin went about cleaning the room, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible; he knew the lovebirds rarely got any time together, seeing as their relationship was still so controversial, and he didn't want to disrupt one of their rare "moments." So he settled down with Arthur's sword with the intent to clean and polish and sharpen it. But then Gwen caught sight of it.

"Why have you got blood on your sword?" she demanded, pulling back to look at Arthur anxiously. "You said you were just going out on a ride. Did something happen? Are you alright? And why did you take your bandages off?" she asked as she noticed the strips of cloth were gone, reaching up to run her fingers through his unfettered hair. Arthur, who had forgotten the bandages in all the commotion at the clearing, looked to Merlin in alarm, not sure what to tell her. Merlin just shrugged; it was up to Arthur what he wanted to tell Gwen.

"Er…" he said, completely irresolute. Gwen pursed her lips in displeasure at his hesitation and pushed him down onto the edge of his bed.

"You really shouldn't be fighting so soon after such an injury, Arthur," she scolded lightly. She moved to inspect the "wound" but Arthur took hold of her wrists to stop her. She looked at him in confusion.

"Guinevere…you love me, right?" Arthur asked after a moment of hesitation. Gwen looked at him in mild offense, but then saw that he looked a little bit scared and very vulnerable all of the sudden. She couldn't fathom why that would be, or why he would choose now to question her feelings, but she sat down next to him and smiled softly anyway.

"Of course I do, Arthur, you know that. Why do you even need to ask?"

"And what are…what are your views on…on sorcery?" Gwen's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the seemingly random question. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering where exactly this line of questioning was going.

"I don't know if I have one set view on it," she said slowly, carefully; she did not want to upset Arthur with her answer, but she also was not willing to censor herself for his comfort. If he loved her, he would accept anything she said without trying to change her mind. "I have witnessed many atrocities committed by those with magic, but I'm also sure that it can be used in positive ways if the sorcerer wielding the magic is so inclined. I do not agree with Uther's methods, that's for sure, but I do not necessarily blame him for his fear of magic." Arthur looked unaccountably relieved and her confusion grew; that had not exactly been the reaction she was expecting; Arthur usually agreed with his father on the subject of magic and its practitioners, but it seemed that had changed recently.

"Guinevere, I…there's something I sh…" Arthur struggled to say, but he cut off his fumbling and shot a desperately pleading look behind her. Gwen felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned to see Merlin standing behind her with a hand outstretched, looking slightly nervous but determined nonetheless. He said "Blòstmà" and his eyes glowed gold as a small flower grew from nothing in the palm of his hand. He extended it toward her with a tentative smile on his face and waited for her reaction. Gwen stared at him for a moment, looking back and forth between his nervous face and the small yellow rose in his hand with a slightly open mouth. Eventually she reached out and took the flower from him, a grin of her own growing.

"Why, Merlin," she said playfully. "When did  _you_  get to be such a charmer?" Merlin's smile grew wider and more certain, and his eyes flicked back over her shoulder. She turned back around just in time to see Arthur's eyes flash gold as well as he whispered "Forbærnan." A small flame sprung to life in the palm of his upraised hand and Gwen stared at it, much more shocked by this than she had been by Merlin's flower.

"But…how…?" she stammered, staring back and forth between them. Again Arthur looked to Merlin, which in itself was out of the ordinary. Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I guess it's my turn to explain," he grumbled.

"Well, someone had better," Gwen said threateningly, putting her hands on her hips and giving them both her best get-to-it glare. Merlin set about explaining the last several days, from the ill-fated hunting trip all the way through the attack in the clearing, though he left out the bits about Morgana's treachery, not knowing how much Gwen already knew or suspected about her mistress and unsure of her acting skills. It actually didn't take as long as he thought it would to explain everything. When he actually thought about it, not all that much had happened. It was just that what  _had_ happened was so monumental and life-altering that it felt like it should take longer to tell. It  _felt_  like a millennia, so why didn't the tale last as long? Arthur stayed uncharacteristically quiet through the whole thing, waiting for his Guinevere's final reaction with bated breath. Finally she turned to him. And slapped him. It wasn't a hard slap, just a light one. But he still gaped at her. She glared at him for a moment.

" _That's_  for not telling me sooner, Arthur Pendragon," she said formally. Then her expression melted into a much softer one and she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. "And that's just for you. I love you, Arthur, magic or no. You should know that by now." Arthur couldn't stop the ridiculously sappy smile from spreading across his face. He kissed her again, and again, and again, and she giggled at his enthusiasm before pulling away and turning to a blushing and embarrassed Merlin. "You too, Merlin. Come here." She jumped up to pull her friend into a tight hug and kissed him too, on the cheek Arthur was glad to see.

"Now, as much as I would love to stay here and get demonstrations from the both of you," she said, "I need to get back and attend to Morgana. It's getting late, and I already took a day off recently." She giggled a bit at the thought of the awkward moment that had won her that evening off, then left after giving her love another peck on the lips.

"See?" Merlin asked haughtily once she was out the door. "I told you that you had nothing to fear by telling Gwen. You really should listen to me more often."

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur turned to face his servant fully. "And don't think I've forgotten about our earlier conversation,  _Mer_ lin, because I most certainly haven't."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Merlin said immediately.

"Who do you need to talk to that you don't want me to know about?" Arthur demanded. Merlin took up his master's sword and started polishing in earnest, ignoring the question completely. Arthur tried to glare him down but Merlin stayed resolutely focused on the weapon in his lap. Arthur huffed in frustration. "Come on, Merlin, you said no more secrets," he said imploringly. Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"This is one of those things I didn't want to tell you until you had your magic completely under control," he confessed.

"And why is that?"

"Because I don't know how you'll react," Merlin said. "You might—probably will, actually—be incredibly angry with me."

"You're not making me any less determined to find out who this mysterious advisor is, Merlin."

"I don't want to tell you," Merlin said stubbornly. Then he sighed in defeated as he caught sight of Arthur's beseeching stare. "But if you really want to know, I guess I can take you with me when I go see him tonight."

"Take me where?"

"We have to find another large clearing…" Merlin muttered. "Can't use that one anymore, seeing as it's full of dead bandits."

"Why do we need to go to a large clearing in the middle of the forest to talk to this person?" Arthur asked in bewilderment. Merlin just shook his head.

"You'll see" was all he said.

" _How do they live?_ " Morgana hissed the second her sister stepped out of the trees of the Darkling Woods at sunset. "How do they continue to defy all odds and defeat everything I throw in their path?"

"You will not like what I have to say, sister," Morgause cautioned her, but Morgana wasn't listening to her. She was pacing furiously at the edge of the woods, green sparks shooting uncontrollably from her fingertips in her passion.

"How could three knights possibly triumph over fifty armed and dangerous men?" she demanded. "Three knights and a useless serving boy," she spat, her tone dripping with disdain and loathing.

"The serving boy is more than he seems," Morgause said cautiously.

"Merlin? Please," Morgana scoffed. "The boy is a spineless traitor."

"There is more to Merlin than meets the eye," Morgause insisted.

"Don't be ridiculous, Morgause," Morgana shot over his shoulder, getting irritated with her sister now. She was jerked from her pacing by Morgause' firm hand on her arm. She looked up indignantly to see the blonde witch staring intently at her.

"The boy has magic," she said. Morgana let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh.

"Merlin? With magic? That's impossible. If he had magic he would've—" But she stopped.  _Would_  he have told her? He had been her friend, or so she had thought at the time. But then he had poisoned her, tried to kill her for no reason. Would a  _friend_  do something like that? No, of course not. But if Merlin had magic, that meant he too had abandoned her in her greatest hour of need and left her to flounder in fear and uncertainty, just like Gaius had.

"I have seen it with my own eyes," Morgause told her. "It was he who defeated our bandits. All of them with one word. He has magic, Morgana, and powerful magic at that." Morgana pulled her arm out of her sister's grip with a sharp jerk and returned to her pacing with renewed fervor.

"That boy," she growled, hatred pulsing through her body like a poison. "I want to see him  _dead_ , Morgause. That traitorous weakling will not live to see another day, mark my word. More than anything else, more than I want my throne, more than I want to see Uther fall by my hand, I want to see Merlin dead."

"Just dead, sister?" Morgause questioned slyly. Her silky tone made Morgana stop and look at her in intrigue. "Simple death is too good for him, surely. You want him to suffer before you kill him, don't you?"

"What do you have in mind?" Morgana asked, her curiosity aroused despite herself. She could see it already; Merlin writhing in pain, begging her for death. The thought made her pulse race in a manic sort of joy. Morgause pulled from her pocket a small black stone, about the size of an egg. Morgana stepped forward to inspect it, taking it into her hand and immediately feeling the draw of its unique and dark magic. She glanced up to see a chilling smile of sadistic anticipation on her sister's face. She found herself mirroring it.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's actually early. I get impatient when I actually remember I have stories I'm posting.

"Where are we going, Merlin, and why do we need to go sneaking out in the middle of the night to talk to this enigmatic person you won't tell me about? Can't he just come up to the castle during the day?"

"You know, sneaking isn't very effective if you keep talking."

"Oh, that's rich coming from you. You're the one who never shuts up. Why can't you be this quiet when we're on a hunt? Then you just blather on—"

"Will you just shut up? OW!"

"That's my line, _Mer_ lin."

"Doesn't mean you get to hit me…"

"Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes in extreme irritation but did as ordered, hoping Arthur would have enough sense to follow his example and keep quiet. He led the way through the dark, silent corridors of the sleeping castle, the hood of his cloak pulled up to cast his face in shadow. Normally he didn't bother with a cloak, but he was used to sneaking out  _alone_  and without a chatty prince following in his wake, one who apparently didn't know the meaning of stealth. When they came in sight of the palace guards, though, Arthur finally seemed to get the picture and became still and silent. Merlin whispered a complicated little spell and the guards at the city gates looked around, a little dazed but essentially unconcerned. Merlin jerked his head for Arthur to follow and led the way past them as quietly as possible.

"What was that spell?" Arthur whispered once they were out of earshot and heading for the woods. "Why didn't they look at us as we passed?"

"It's a nifty trick that makes you unnoticeable," Merlin explained. "People's eyes just glance right over you. Doesn't make you invisible, though, just inconspicuous. They can still see you if you manage to draw their attention, that's why we were tiptoeing. If they had heard us, they would've been able to focus on and see us."

"That's a useful little spell," Arthur admitted grudgingly, impressed. "You'll have to teach me that one."

"It's great for days when you just don't want to talk to anyone," Merlin told him. "I can't tell you how many times I've used that while doing chores or buying things in the marketplace on a bad day. It also works wonders for hiding you in a crowd, where no one ever pays attention to anyone else. Makes you blend right in and you can hide in plain sight."

"Now that we've gotten out of the city, where are we going?" Arthur asked, getting back on topic. Merlin rolled his eyes at his companion's impatience.

"It'll be easier to explain later," he insisted. "We just need to find a large clearing away from the city."

"Why?"

"Will you just trust me?"

"Well, you're being really shifty right now, Merlin, you're making it sort of difficult." Merlin didn't respond and they walked on in silence. Arthur noticed Merlin skirted around the clearing they had been in earlier that day, the one filled with bandits he had killed, giving it a wide berth. He knew Merlin was still upset about the whole incident, but he knew better than to press him to talk about it. Some people just needed to deal with their grief and their guilt on their own, and he suspected Merlin was one of those people. Obviously, he had been dealing with it well enough by himself for the last three years, he would be able to work past this as well. Finally, Merlin stopped in a mid-sized clearing maybe ten minutes' walk from the other one.

"This should be big enough," he said to himself, looking around with a critical eye. He turned back to Arthur, looking surprisingly nervous again. "Please don't be angry with me." Arthur frowned in confusion. Merlin shot him another apologetic glance before striding to the middle of the clearing, throwing back his head, and roaring in a voice very different than anything Arthur had ever heard before. " _O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes! Erkheo!_ " His words echoed around the field and Arthur felt himself take an automatic step backward. His servant's voice was suddenly infused with such command and authority, Arthur felt sure that even  _he_  would obey Merlin without question in that moment. But Merlin's voice died away after echoing once through the trees surrounding them and he spun around to look at Arthur, biting his lip apprehensively.

" _What_  was  _that_?" Arthur gasped. Those words hadn't been of the Old Language, or at least they were no words he had heard before. So what had they been?

"The Dragon Tongue," Merlin said with the air of someone walking to a noose and tying it around his own neck, his normal voice sounding incredibly small after that powerful roaring. Arthur looked at him, needing more than that to placate him. "I'm…I'm a Dragonlord. The last Dragonlord, actually."

"A Dragonlord," Arthur repeated, nonplussed. Merlin nodded and waited for Arthur to react. Really, he wasn't all that surprised. Considering the week he was having, he doubted anything could take him by surprise anymore. Only one thing crossed his mind. "How can you be a Dragonlord when there are no dragons left for you to lord over?" Merlin bit his lip again, looking about ready to bolt.

"Er…I'm afraid you're going to have to take 'dragon-slayer' off your list of titles, Arthur," he said apologetically, offering a forced grin. Arthur did not return it.

"Are you trying to tell me that the Great Dragon is still alive?" Arthur asked slowly, incredulously.

"No! Well, maybe…actually…er, yes. Yes, he is," Merlin rambled. Seeing the look on Arthur's face, he hurried to defend himself. "But I couldn't kill him, Arthur! He's the last of his kind, and dragons are a noble and ancient breed. And we're kin, he and I, we're connected on a spiritual and magical level deeper than anything else, dragon and Dragonlord. I couldn't just strike him down when—"

"He killed innocent people, Merlin," Arthur said, advancing menacingly on the stammering Merlin as his anger rose.

"I know, and those deaths will always be on my hands, I know that," Merlin said, "but while I don't condone what he did, I can't honestly blame him for wanting to get his revenge. He had been done a great wrong by your father. His entire race was wiped out and he was tricked and imprisoned for twenty years. Wouldn't you want retribution as well? And besides," he hurried on before Arthur could respond, "he's saved just as many lives as he's taken. He has helped me innumerable times in saving your life and all of Camelot, before and since his release. I stopped him from killing you or anyone else and ordered him to leave the city alone, and not to come back unless I called for him."

"Why didn't you call him off  _before_  he killed all those people?" Arthur bellowed, losing his fragile hold on his righteous anger. A slight wind was picking up around him but he couldn't be bothered by it at the moment. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; he thought Merlin was better than that, could not accept that Merlin would stand by and watch people die when he had the power to stop it at any moment. "If you're a bloody Dragonlord, why would you allow him to destroy half the city before you did anything about it?"

"I wasn't a Dragonlord then!" Merlin shouted back. "Dragonlord powers are inherited, passed down from father to son upon the father's dead. I couldn't inherit my powers until my father died. Once Balinor was killed, I became a Dragonlord in my own right and managed to call the dragon off before he did any more damage."

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, reigning in and pushing down his boiling magic, trying to stop the gusts that were making their cloaks flap around their legs. He didn't even comprehend all that Merlin had said, or really catch the implication that Balinor had been Merlin's father, in his struggle to control himself. He didn't have a whole lot of time to dwell on any of it, though. He heard the sound of giant wings above him in the night sky and felt a strong wind, one not caused by his own uncontrolled magic, begin to twist and push at the trees around them. He looked up and saw the Great Dragon, just as formidable and terrifying as it had been the last time he had encountered it, bearing down upon them. Merlin retreated to the edge of the clearing and Arthur scrambled to follow suit, his hand going instinctively to the hilt of his sword and adrenaline thrumming through his veins. The dragon landed with a force that shook the ground and folded his wings close to his body before looking down at them imperiously.

"Young warlock," he said by way of greeting to Merlin. Arthur stared up at the beast in shock; he hadn't known that dragons were capable of speech. "And…" His gaze fell on Arthur. He stared for a moment, then leaned forward a bit and narrowed his immense golden eyes in scrutiny. Arthur felt Merlin tense beside him, waiting for something. He himself was waiting to be burned to a crisp or snapped up into those razor sharp teeth. Suddenly, startlingly, the dragon let out a booming laugh, small bursts of fire erupting from his nostrils as he threw his head back and cackled. Arthur started violently but Merlin just rubbed a hand down his face with a put-upon sigh and looked up in irritation.

"Now is really not the time, Kilgharrah," he yelled impatiently, but the dragon ignored him and continued roaring his amusement to the night.

"Oh, but this is just too good," he chortled, finally settling back down to look at them again, mirth making his eyes glow more fiercely than ever. "Even I, with all my formidable knowledge of events past, present and future, could not have foreseen this."

"That's just everybody's favorite line nowadays, isn't it?" Merlin muttered irritatedly.

"The young Pendragon has been gifted with magic," Kilgharrah stated with glee. "That is an impressive feat, even for you, Merlin."

"So I've heard," Merlin said flatly.

"When the prophets said your very souls would be more closely intertwined than any had ever been before, I did not believe they meant it so literally."

"Well, that's all well and good, but that's not why I called you." The dragon let out a huff that might have been an annoyed sigh and became more serious.

"Very well then. Why have you summoned me, young warlock?" Kilgharrah asked in a much more formal tone.

"Morgause knows of my magic," Merlin said gravely. The dragon shifted but did not react beyond that.

"And the witch Morgana?" he questioned.

"If she doesn't know yet, she will soon. I doubt Morgause would keep it from her."

"Then this is a serious situation indeed." Merlin rolled his eyes; yes, he  _knew_  it was a serious situation and he didn't need the dragon to tell him that. He wouldn't have called the dragon at all if it wasn't a serious situation.

"What should I do?" he asked. "When Morgause tells Morgana, there's no predicting what she'll do. She already wants me dead, I have no doubt about that, but this will give her the perfect way to make it happen. All she has to do is go to Uther and I'm a dead man. And there's nothing I can think of to do to prevent her from outing me."

"But you could out her just as easily, couldn't you?" Arthur pointed out, stepping forward warily to stand beside Merlin again and not taking his eyes off the great beast before him. "Why would she take that risk and possibly compromise her current position within the royal household?" Merlin shook his head.

"No one would believe me. I'm a servant, she's the king's loving ward. Uther would have me killed just for suggesting Morgana had magic, even without her leveling completely justified accusations against me. With them, I would be on the pyre by morning."

"Merlin is right," the dragon said. "This is a dangerous position to be in."

"So what do I do?" Merlin asked again, more urgently, trying not to let his desperation and thinly-veiled anxiety show in his voice but both Arthur and Kilgharrah knew him well enough to hear it plainly.

"There is nothing you can do, young warlock," Kilgharrah said gently, as though the tone of voice in which he said them would make the words less difficult to hear. "You can only wait and see what the witch will do with the knowledge."

"How can I just wait and do nothing?" Merlin asked incredulously. "I'm supposed to just sit back and wait for the guards to storm my room in the middle of the night and drag me to the dungeons to await execution? Because I really don't fancy that much." He had always lived in fear of discovery, but this was different. The threat was so much more real now. Everything he had ever worked for was being threatened and he couldn't even ride out to counter it. He had always had a way to fight before, something he could do, some chance he could take, no matter how slim it may have been. To be told there was nothing, nothing at all for him to do was incredibly galling and altogether terrifying.

"I warned you what would come about if you should allow the witch to live," the dragon said, his voice much harsher than it had been a moment ago. "If you had not ignored my counsel—"

"I couldn't just sit by and watch my friend die!" Merlin shouted. "No matter what she had done, no matter what she was trying to do, I couldn't just watch her die knowing I had the power to save her. Especially when it was my fault she was injured in the first place." Arthur looked at him in confusion. He thought Morgause had been the one to save Morgana when Merlin had poisoned her. And he wouldn't really call being poisoned an injury, per se.

"And now you reap the rewards of your mercy, young warlock," Kilgharrah said darkly. "You should have let the witch die. However, her cruelty may work in your favor." He spread his wings and leapt into the sky without another word, leaving only his cryptic words behind him.

"What? What's that supposed to mean? Kilgharrah!" Merlin called after him, but the dragon did not return. Merlin let out a hoarse little yell of frustration, throwing his hands into the air and turning away from the sight of the retreating beast. "Stupid bloody dragon, always speaking in riddles. Can he never say anything plainly?"

"When did you injure and then save Morgana?" Arthur asked, unable to stop himself. Merlin sighed and let his hands fall to his sides, looking haggard and old again.

"Remember when she fell down the stairs and cracked her skull and Gaius said it was unlikely she would live?" Arthur nodded. They had all been crushed. Arthur remembered holding Guinevere as she cried, trying to hold in tears of his own as his surrogate sister lay still and lifeless in Gaius' chambers. "She had been on the way to murder your father in his sleep. I tried to stop her and accidentally knocked her down the stairs. I couldn't stand watching everyone grieve for her knowing I had the power to save her and stop everyone's pain. So I came to the dragon and commanded that he give me a spell to heal her, against his explicit warnings that it was not in anyone's best interests to let her live. He's still rather tetchy that I used my Dragonlord power to force him to comply against his wishes." Arthur was a bit stunned to hear of Morgana's blatant cowardliness, sneaking around like a thief in the night—she had always seemed like one to stand up and make as big a scene as possible—but was unsurprised to hear of Merlin's merciful compulsion. But he still had trouble picturing Merlin ordering that enormous, deadly creature and having it obey him. That would take some getting used to.

"So what did you hope to accomplish with this little visit?" Arthur asked. They really hadn't gotten anything out of it that he could determine. Seemed rather a pointless journey.

"Sometimes he manages to come up something useful. Advice or maybe a spell," Merlin said, shaking his head dismally. "Not this time, though. Nothing we can do. Wonderful. So now we go back and we wait." Merlin sounded thoroughly aggravated by the prospect. Arthur had to admit he wasn't too keen on it either, but they didn't have any other ideas. He sighed heavily and turned to lead the way back to Camelot.

"Brilliant," he said dryly. "I love waiting."

 


	16. Chapter 16

"I hate waiting."

"I know, Merlin."

"This is killing me."

"I know, Merlin."

"How can you just sit there all calm-like?"

"What else am I supposed to be doing, Merlin?"

"I don't know! Anything's better than just sitting here!"

"You're not sitting, you're walking around."

"Oh, very funny, Arthur. Your wit knows no bounds."

"Look,  _Mer_ lin, the dragon said there's nothing to be done but wait, so stop your incessant pacing, sit down, and eat something before you worry yourself into a coma."

"I'm not hungry."

"Merlin, you are my servant and I am your master. I command you to sit down," Arthur said in his most imperious voice. Merlin simply scoffed at him, shooting him a look that said quite plainly that that was nonsense. And Arthur couldn't help but concede that he might have had a point. True, their positions as master and manservant had not changed, but their relationship had become so much more than that. Arthur had already considered Merlin a friend—though he would never have admitted it unless one or both of them were or were soon to be dying—maybe a  _best_  friend before this whole magic-sharing situation even began, and he knew Merlin had regarded him in much the same way. But there had always been the barrier of class and rank, and, of course, Arthur's ever present stubbornness and pride.

Now, however, all of that had been flung promptly and rather unceremoniously out the window. Their bond had been immeasurably strengthened by this newfound connection, one so incredibly intimate and profound that neither could find words to describe it, even to himself. There was no denying their closeness now, even to themselves, especially as they had been cooped up in the same room for over a week with little to do but practice magic, read magic books, and talk. They had done a lot of talking in the last few days. Merlin had finally gotten around to telling Arthur about many of the adventures he had had since he had gotten to Camelot, the trials he had suffered and the foes he had faced. Arthur had to admit that he was rather upset to find out that many of his supposed accomplishments weren't actually  _his_  at all, but  _Merlin's_. He had pouted for several hours and ordered the offending warlock to go muck out his stables, which he had done without a single complaint and with a smug smirk on his lips.

And now there was a threat hanging over his closest friend's head, an executioner's axe looming over him whenever they closed their eyes, and Arthur didn't like it one bit. Merlin, obviously, liked it even less. But Arthur knew that he couldn't start showing his worry or his fear or he would crack completely. This flippancy, this nonchalance in the face of danger, was his way of coping with it. If he couldn't fight something, couldn't suit up and ride out to meet it head on, then he would sit back and eat his lunch and pretend it didn't bother him in the least. It was all he could do to keep his composure. And it would be so much easier if Merlin would just stop agonizing and reminding him of it.

" _Mer_ lin,  _sit down_."

Sensing that Arthur's tone brooked no argument this time, Merlin finally flung himself down into the chair by the table and snatched up a piece of bread from the lunch he had brought up only moments ago. He chewed it pensively while Arthur wolfed down the more savory portions with feigned gusto. Three days and Morgana still hadn't made her move. Her lack of action was making Merlin antsy. He had been pacing Arthur's room all morning and he could hardly sit still. He was waiting for Uther to stride into the room calling for his execution with a smirking Morgana standing triumphantly at his side. It hadn't happened to so far, but that did nothing at all to allay his fears, if anything it made them worse. What was Morgana planning if it didn't involve going to Uther with tales of his sorcerous treachery? What else could she have thought up to punish him for his perceived crimes? His worried mind presented all manner of terrifying and outlandish theories which he tried his best to repress.

"Will you calm down, Merlin? You're making  _me_  nervous with all your worrying," Arthur griped through a mouthful of pork. Merlin sent him a look.

"How can I possibly calm down?" he shot back. "I could be hauled away for execution any minute, and here you are stuffing your face without a care in the world! What happened to your fear of being caught? Remember that feeling you had when you were thinking of telling the knights about you, that feeling like the world was going to end? Imagine that feeling multiplied by a  _thousand_  and the stakes tripled and then tell me again that I should  _calm down_."

Arthur rolled his eyes and stretched his arms over his head, making his way over to his bed, apparently intent on blocking out Merlin's uneasiness with an afternoon nap. Merlin stood as well, more out of habit than anything else, to see if the prat needed anything but he stopped where he was when he smelled something out of place. He paused and sniffed the air. The odor seemed vaguely familiar but he found that he couldn't place it. He tried to think back to where and when he had last smelled it, but his brain had gone oddly fuzzy. He turned to bring the scent to Arthur's attention, but his master had already collapsed onto his bed. Something told Merlin that it wasn't a natural sleep and he stumbled clumsily around to look for their attacker. To his horror, he caught sight of Morgana smirking at him from the doorway to Arthur's room, a handkerchief pressed over her mouth. He reached for his magic only to find that it, too, was sluggish and unresponsive. He tried to speak but his mouth refused to cooperate. His vision swam and his knees gave way beneath him. As he collapsed, he heard Morgana begin speaking in the language of the Old Religion, chanting a spell he vaguely thought he recognized, but the roaring in his ears prevented him from discerning her exact words. He lost consciousness before her spell was complete.

Merlin awoke to find himself lying on a hard dungeon floor, his arms twisted uncomfortably to the side and his head throbbing fiercely. He tried to push himself up off the ground only to find that his hands were shackled to a metal ring set in the stone floor in front of him. He struggled up into a kneeling position somehow and looked around. Arthur was lying against the wall to Merlin's left, obviously still unconscious, bound with sturdy ropes to another ring like the one holding Merlin. The dungeon was medium sized, maybe ten feet by eight, with a single small barred window set at the very top of the wall to Merlin's right. Considering its elevated position, he guessed the cell was at least partially underground. A rusted metal door stood opposite the prisoners, looking a little crooked as if one of its hinges was busted. By the moonlight streaming in from above, he determined they'd most likely been asleep for many hours, as it had been midday when they were attacked. He wondered if their sleep had been enchanted; any chemical used to knock them out wouldn't keep them unconscious for so long. If so, it was safe to assume that Morgana was on her way to them now. Frowning, he tried to recall the spell Morgana had been incanting before he had lost consciousness, but the memory was very hazy and difficult to focus on. He shook his pounding head in frustration.

His gaze fell on the heavy manacles around his wrists. He looked at them more closely and found, to his vexation, that they were etched with runes and symbols of the Old Religion. A dreadful foreboding rose up inside of him; he had a horrible feeling he knew what these chains were for. He reached for his magic but couldn't make it come to his aid. It stayed dormant in his chest, trapped and restrained by the magic in the shackles. Refusing to let panic overtake him, Merlin looked over to Arthur.

"Arthur," he called quietly. His friend stirred slightly but didn't wake. " _Arthur_ ," he said more forcefully. Arthur moaned slightly and opened his eyes slowly. Upon seeing Merlin bound by chains to a dungeon floor, he immediately scrambled up into a sitting position, his eyes wide and his face angry.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded wildly.

"Morgana happened, that's what," Merlin said darkly. "She, and Morgause probably, should be on her way down here soon. But listen to me, Arthur. These chains are magical, they're meant to keep me under control. But I beg you, Arthur, let me handle this. We have the advantage here; they don't know about  _you_. You need to keep it that way as long as possible, do you understand me?"

"Merlin—"

"It's me they'll be focusing on right now," Merlin cut across him, urgency coloring his tone. "It's me Morgana's after. Don't call any attention to yourself,  _please_ , Arthur. And whatever you do, keep control of your powers. Let me handle this."

"But what if you—"

"Just  _trust_ me, Arthur," Merlin insisted, wishing he could force himself to feel the confidence he was infusing into his voice. "If worse comes to absolute worst, trust in your magic; it will not lead you astray."

Arthur looked like he wanted to respond but his head snapped around when the clicking of heels could be heard in the passageway outside. The door opened with a grating squeal, which did nothing to calm Merlin's frayed nerves, to reveal Morgana and Morgause, both smirking in that terribly beautiful way that meant nothing but trouble. They strode in and shut the door behind them. It seemed to slam closed behind them with an awful sort of finality.

"Oh good. You're awake," Morgana said lightly. Merlin glared at her with more venom than he ever had before. "Do you like your new accommodations?"

"Where are we? How did we get here?" Merlin demanded, glad to hear that his voice did not betray the nervousness he felt, glancing toward the high-set window again.

"A useful little bunker near the border to Cenred's kingdom," she answered helpfully, waving her hand dismissively. "It was no problem to get you here, really. Just a simple transportation spell." Merlin let out a hard laugh.

"Simple? So simple that you had to rest for several hours to regain your strength before facing me?" he retorted. Morgana's face hardened into a mask of anger and indignation. She strode forward and backhanded Merlin, sending his head snapping forcefully to the left; she had always been remarkably strong for a woman.

"You will not speak to me in such a way," she said coldly. Merlin shook his head slightly, trying to ignore the stinging pain in his cheek, and looked up at her defiantly. "You have magic," she said, her voice tight with restrained rage.

"Wow, Morgana, I never took you for someone to state the obvious," Merlin snapped. Morgana hit him again, the force of it nearly knocking him sideways. He managed to retain his kneeling position with some difficulty. He tasted copper and spat blood out of his mouth from where a tooth had caught on the inside of his cheek. Morgana surged forward and grabbed his chin with a vice-like grip, forcing his face up to hers.

"You have magic and yet you continue to serve and protect the likes of a  _Pendragon_ ," she hissed, her eyes blazing with fury. "You fawn over my  _dear brother_  while watching your own people burn." Merlin jerked his head back, breaking her grip on him. "You're a traitor, Merlin," she said viciously. "You betray your people every day you allow this swine and Uther Pendragon to live."

"You're the one betraying your people, Morgana," Merlin shouted back, his own anger rising forth to match hers. "You betray them by becoming exactly what Uther claims all those with magic to be. All you're doing is proving him right. None of you evil sorcerers think of the consequences of your actions, do you? What will happen in the long run? Magic will always be feared and hated if you use it only for destructive purposes. I work for a better future, Morgana, and the good of  _all_  peoples, not just those with magic."

"If you're so concerned with  _the_   _good of the people_ , then why is my tyrant of a father still alive and on the throne?" Morgana demanded savagely. Arthur could have fallen over from shock. She saw his flinch and turned to look at him. A sadistic smirk grew on her lovely face as she drank in his astonishment. "Oh. You still didn't know, did you? Don't feel bad, Arthur, Uther didn't see fit to tell  _me_  either." She sauntered over to him and trailed a hand down his cheek in some parody of a loving caress. He jerked away from her as Merlin had done earlier. "Yes, brother mine, this is just another way in which our dear father is a liar. But don't worry; he won't be a blight on this kingdom for much longer. Neither will you, for that matter. Once I kill you, Uther will be crushed, his spirit broken beyond repair. Who will be there for him but his loving ward? I'll be his shoulder to cry on, his support and his comfort. Without his crown prince and heir apparent, he will have no choice but to acknowledge me as the rightful heir to the throne. Then Uther will be taken out quietly and I will ascend to my rightful place as Queen. With Merlin out of the way and my ascension perfectly legitimate, there will be no one left who would think to challenge me."

Arthur was shaking with rage and the effort of holding in his magic. He saw the frantic look Merlin sent him and he closed his eyes, turning his focus resolutely inward. He fought to keep the ball of writhing heat contained in his chest, nearly gasping with the effort required. Morgana laughed cruelly, taking this as a sign of distress at the startling and upsetting news she had given him. She turned back to Merlin, who was seething mad and thinking she was incredibly lucky his magic was restrained.

"Arthur will die for his prejudice against magic, and because he is the biggest obstacle in my path to the throne," she said in a would-be casual voice. Her tone hardened considerably as she advanced on her true prey. "But you, Merlin. You tried to murder me."

"I had no choice," he said insistently. She let out a harsh bark of laughter.

" _No choice_?" she all but shrieked, losing all semblance of aloofness. "You poisoned me in the midst of an attack! When I was just as terrified and confused and helpless as you were!"

"You were the power source of the spell, Morgana, it was feeding off of you," he yelled, practically begging for her to understand. Maybe if she did, she would stop this ridiculous vendetta and become the girl she had been before all this began. Maybe that girl was still in there. Maybe he could still reach her. "As long as you lived, the spell couldn't be broken. The entire kingdom would've fallen and everyone in it would've been killed."

Morgause stepped forward from the corner in which she had been lurking, watching the fun, to place a calming hand on her sister's shoulder. Morgana turned to look at her for a moment, obviously reigning in her temper, and finally turned back to her quarry with a glare that could melt iron. She strode forward to stand imperiously over Merlin for a moment, then reached down and caught his chin in her tight grip again.

"That betrayal alone would warrant your death, Merlin," she said, her voice positively frigid, leaning down so that her face was mere inches from his. "But now I find that you had  _magic_  the whole time. Not only have you betrayed me personally, lying to me when you could have helped me understand by powers, could have taught me how to use them, but you have betrayed all of your kind. Uther could have been dead at your hand years ago and our people would have been free. But instead you sat back and watched as your brethren burned at the stake. Their blood is on your hands. And for that, you don't deserve death." Merlin and Arthur both looked at her with wide eyes, fearing the implication behind that simple statement.

Morgana released his chin and strode away from him, reaching into a pocket of her elegant deep purple dress. When she turned to face him again, she held a small black stone in her hand and her stunning face was alight with malice. Merlin's eyes were drawn to the stone and it sent a shiver down his spine. The stone was maybe the size of a chicken's egg, its surface smooth and even. But it did not reflect the light of the moon from the window, did not reflect anything at all. It was like a black hole, sucking in all light and swallowing it greedily. Merlin felt an uncomfortable tugging sensation, like something was pulling at his magic despite the constraining presence of the magical chains. The stone seemed to emit a dark aura and his magic shrunk away from it, hiding away deeper inside of him. A glance at Arthur's bewildered and stricken face showed that he was feeling its draw as well.

"Do you know what this is, Merlin?" Morgana purred. Merlin didn't bother to answer; it was obvious that he didn't. "No, of course you don't. It's called the  _Stàn Sàwla_. The Stone of Souls." She began strolling closer, her hard glittering eyes never leaving his, and the pulling sensation intensified. Merlin shifted backward reflexively and Morgana's smile widened at his discomfort. "You see, Merlin, this stone is a receptacle. It has the ability to capture a man's soul, stealing it from him leaving behind an empty shell. You would live, of course," she assured him as if that would be a comfort to him, beginning to walk around him slowly, like a shark circling her prey, "but you would no longer be you. You would have no sense of self, no will of your own. Your body and your magic would be mine to command, and your soul mine to destroy."

Merlin's eyes widened and his heart sank, true panic rearing up in him again. Morgana sneered at his obvious fear, but his alarm wasn't on account of the fate she described; it was because he knew something she didn't, something that made this whole terrible situation much, much worse. Merlin wasn't like other magic-users. He didn't simply  _possess_  magic.  _He was magic_. His magic  _was_  his soul, and it was threaded so deeply into his core, his heart, his mind, and his body that his life was inextricably tied to it. This stone, if it managed to suck his magic—his soul, his very life force—out of him, would surely kill him completely. He simply could not survive without it. Morgana stopped him front of him and Merlin jerked backwards, fighting ferociously against his chains, trying desperately to get away, but to no avail.

Swiftly, Morgana thrust the stone forward, pressing it to Merlin's forehead, and his world exploded in agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I would GIVE to have fanart of that last moment. I can see it in my brain, but I can't draw. So. -sigh-


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost done posting this story. Sad face.

_Swiftly, Morgana thrust the stone forward, pressing it to Merlin's forehead, and his world exploded in agony._

Pain such as Merlin had never experienced before erupted inside of him as the stone, cold and hard as a chip of ice, made contact with his skin. His body tensed, his back arching violently. Distantly he could hear himself screaming, feel his limbs jerking convulsively, but he had no way of to stop himself. He was on fire, he had to be, he felt certain he was being burned alive from the inside out. His magic was being wrenched ruthlessly from his body, only sliding away faster the harder and more desperately he tried to cling to it. He could feel his strength waning, his consciousness was fading fast and darkness was creeping into the edges of his vision. The pain seemed to last a lifetime, an eternity. Abruptly, the pain stopped and blackness covered him as Morgana her hand pulled back, the stone clasped in it now glowing with a faint golden light.

Arthur saw Morgana drive the stone forward against Merlin's forehead. He could do nothing but stare in abject horror as his friend arched in pain and let out a guttural scream of absolute agony; it was a sound which would haunt him for the rest of his life. He looked on, helpless, as Merlin's twisting and writhing form began to emit an eerie luminescence and then as that light was leeched out of him and drawn into the insatiable stone. After a few seconds which felt much longer than that, Morgana jerked the stone back and Merlin immediately fell limp and silent. A scream of rage and grief ripped from Arthur's throat and his hold on his magic slipped. The rope binding him snapped and fell away and Arthur launched himself across the room. The sisters watched with relish as he fell to his knees at Merlin's side and rolled him onto his back but he didn't acknowledge them; his only thought was seeing if Merlin was alive.

Merlin didn't feel Arthur's hands on his shoulders. He didn't feel anything. He didn't know where he was anymore, or what was happening around him, or even who he was. He couldn't even be sure if he existed. He didn't seem to have a form of any kind, nor a location. There was only emptiness around him, a cold blackness like a vast ocean in which he drifted and spun aimlessly. It was filled with a sort of numbness that stung and tingled along the edges of his vacant awareness. He cast around desperately for something to catch hold of, to cling onto, anything at all, and he felt the barest of touches. Something brushed along the boundaries of his consciousness and he immediately reached out to it. He found that the closer he got to the entity, the shred of warmth and light, the more he could remember.

Merlin, that's who he was. And he was in trouble, definitely, he remembered that much almost immediately. He was supposed to be dead, he recalled vaguely. Why was that? That stone, the stone Morgana had used, should have killed him. Was he dead? No. He didn't think so, at least. He was thinking, so he couldn't be dead, right? He finally located the source of the warmth, a ball of deep, pleasant, almost royal blue light floating inside of him, not filling the emptiness by any means but giving him something to which he could adhere himself and cling to life. It wasn't a part of him, Merlin knew by the blue color instead of his own soul's deep gold, it was foreign, but it didn't feel out of place there. He reached out to touch it and a rush of familiarity met him.  _Arthur_. This was a piece of  _Arthur's_  soul, no doubt taken in exchange for the magic Merlin had bestowed upon him only a few days prior. And now, Merlin realized, this fraction of Arthur's soul was the only thing keeping him alive when his own soul had been taken from him.

Arthur, too, had noticed that Merlin lived, if only just. The infinitesimal rise and fall of his chest, the weak flutter of pulse on his neck, gave testament to his persistence, just as the unnatural coldness and pallor of his skin were evidence of the fragility of his condition. Feeling terror rising inside of him, Arthur realized he had no idea what to do. He had never felt so incredibly lost and useless, and the overwhelming wave of despair and powerlessness was enough to bring tears to his eyes as his heart clenched painfully in his heaving chest. Then Merlin's last instruction rang in his head.  _If worse comes to absolute worst, trust in your magic; it will not lead you astray._  Well, if this wasn't the worst that could have possibly happened, Arthur didn't want to know what was.

As soon as he reached for it, his magic was there, fighting upward and pushing at his skin, trying desperately to get free and aid him. Letting it fill him up and dance along the underside of his skin, Arthur tried to let the magic guide him. Without knowing why, just trusting in his instincts, he placed one hand on Merlin's forehead and the other on his chest, over his heart. He took a deep breath and let his hold on his magic drop. It burst forth in a wave of brilliant white light that forced the witches back against the wall. Merlin's body jerked and arched again, his eyes flying open and flooding with gold as his body eagerly welcomed back the magic it had given away. The rushing of magic and energy between them kept Arthur rooted to the spot, breathless at the powerful, heady sensation. When the energy slowed and then finally stopped flowing, Arthur collapsed backward, throwing his hands back to prop himself up, and stayed there, trembling and panting.

Merlin felt the deluge of magic, the gold light rushing in to fill the empty void inside of him, and he also felt the splash of blue sliding away, returning to its rightful place, to Arthur. When the connection broke, he lay gasping for breath, winded by the abrupt return to himself. Neither he nor Arthur had ample time to rest and recover their faculties, however, as Morgana chose that moment to scream her rage and disbelief. Arthur scrambled to pull Merlin into a sitting position as she stepped forward, death in her eyes and words of the Ancient Language on her lips. Merlin roared, " _Àstrìce!_ " She was blasted backwards into the unforgiving stone wall before she could finish her curse and she slumped at the base of it. Morgause had managed to throw up a shield in time to prevent herself from experiencing the same but was still forced to stumble back a few paces by the strength of the spell. She rushed to Morgana's side to make sure her sister was alive and then turned to snarl at Merlin, who climbed to his feet to face her, looking far angrier than Arthur had ever seen him look before.

" _Bælblyse!_ " Morgause screeched and a ball of flames erupted from her palm, but Merlin batted it out of the air without a word, sending it crashing into the wall.

"Arthur, get the stone from Morgana," he ordered calmly. Arthur nodded and hurried to comply, ducking and rolling to avoid another fireball Morgause decided to direct towards him. Merlin took advantage of her distraction to send in an offensive attack of his own.

" _Àwierdnes,_ " he bellowed. Morgause only barely managed to deflect it. Arthur kept one eye on the battle as he approached his newly-discovered half-sister; even exhausted and with access to only a fraction of his normal power, Merlin was still more than a match for Morgause. Morgana was beginning to stir as Arthur drew up alongside her, no doubt due to the blasts of light and shouted incantations from the ongoing magical duel and the tremors that ran through the entire structure as each attack was redirected elsewhere, but she did not have enough time to comprehend what was going on before Arthur had snatched the stone from her limp fingers. He retreated quickly, ignoring her indignant cry, and called, "Merlin!"

He threw the stone to in Merlin's direction and the warlock caught it. The instant the glowing stone came into contact with his skin, he was nearly knocked over by the force of his own magic returning to him. Never before had he experienced the full scope of his powers; he had never needed to. There had always been some portion of it locked away, lying dormant until such time as its use was necessary. But now every ounce of power he contained was flooding him, filling him until he was sure he would burst with it. It was too much to be contained within his slight figure, riled and angry as it was at the indignity it had suffered, and it was forced to spill over, tingling and racing along his skin more fiercely than it ever had before.

Arthur had to take a step back as Merlin—with his back arched, eyes closed and mouth open in a gasp—began to glow golden, radiating light and energy. When the now empty stone fell from his fingers to clatter on the floor, Merlin's eyes snapped open and they were glowing a fierce, bright, molten gold, the likes of which Arthur had never seen, and instead of fading like they would normally do, the gold remained, pulsing slightly in time with his heartbeat. Merlin's hair and clothing were blowing as if in a heavy breeze, but there was no wind in the room, which suddenly seemed much too small to accommodate such immense power. No longer did Merlin look exhausted or haggard. On the contrary, he was suddenly more commanding and magnificent than any royal could ever hope to look. And when he spoke, his voice was overlaid with many others, as if hundreds of voices were speaking with and through him, and it echoed around the chamber in a way that made Arthur incredibly glad that he was not on the receiving end of Merlin's formidable fury.

" _If you had known me by my other name, Morgause, you would never have dared to cross me,_ " he said evenly, turning his glowing eyes on the witch, and a thousand voices intoned the words with him, imbuing them with an undeniable power and authority. " _But now you have brought upon yourself the wrath of Emrys._ " Morgana looked perturbed by the name, though it was obvious that she did not know the import or the weight of prophecy that it carried with it. But Morgause obviously did. Her face twisted in horror and recognition and she stumbled back to where Morgana had struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on the wall.

"No," she breathed. "No, you can't be. You can't  _possibly_  be!" Merlin took a step toward her and she panicked, flinging out a hand and screaming, " _Heofonfŷr!_ "

A bolt of blue-white lightning erupted from her hand and shot toward Merlin like a javelin. Arthur thought for a millisecond that it might actually hit him, but Merlin's hand shot out and latched onto the end of the bolt. He didn't stop it, but used its force to propel him around in a circle until it met its own end, forming a ring of crackling lightning around him. He released it and it continued to spin, emitting sparks and casting an eerie blue light over his golden skin. Morgause gaped at him, her face a mask of pure terror now. Merlin held his hands out over his halo of lightning and began to chant, his multi-layered voice filling the space around them oppressively. The lightning began spinning faster until it was a blur of pure white light. He shot a hand toward Morgause and a bolt fractured off and ricocheted toward her. She threw up a shield instinctively but it shattered as easily as glass before him. The bolt struck her in the chest and for a moment she was lifted from her feet and illuminated in a bright white light, her hair flying around her and her mouth open in a shriek of agony that pierced the room. The next second, the light had faded and she was gone, replaced by a pile of smoldering ash on the floor.

Morgana dropped to her knees in shock at her sister's fate, reaching a shaking hand tentatively toward what was left of Morgause. She pulled it back abruptly and whipped around to face Merlin, a manic hatred burning in her eyes and contorting her once-beautiful face into something terrible and frightening to behold. She lashed out at him with a wordless cry and sent a wave of fire roaring towards him. Merlin responded much the same way he had to Morgause' lightning, twisting it to his will and wrapping it around his body so that a ring of writhing red and orange flames spun above the white-blue lightning. He took a step toward her and held out his hand to her, palm up.

" _You don't need to do this, Morgana,_ " he said, his tone beneath the echoing voices almost pleading. " _You are not yet beyond redemption._ " Morgana's anger faltered and she looked for just a moment like the sweet, frightened young girl she had been so many years ago, as if she might actually take his hand, but then her face twisted back into one of utmost fury and grief and feral bitterness and she struck out at him again, crying, " _Sweartnes!_ " A jet of pure black light blasted from her palm and Merlin caught it like the others, his expression darkening as he turned to face Morgana again.

" _So be it,_ " he said with a ringing finality. Morgana moved to attack once more but froze when Merlin began chanting again. His hands hovered at shoulder height as the rings of lightning, fire, and darkness swirled around him. At his urging they spun faster, becoming blurred and expanding until their colors began to run together, blue mixing with black morphing into red shifting to white. Merlin's voices swelled to fill the room, growing so loud that Arthur had to cover his ears. The energy whirling around Merlin's figure was a solid wall of eddying color now and the wind it generated was forcing Morgana backwards into the wall again. She struggled against the gust as it whipped her long hair into her terrified face, but to no avail. Merlin's incantation reached a fevered pitch and he thrust his hands toward her with all his might. The energy bounded forward toward Morgana and engulfed her completely, lifting her off the ground in a pillar of constantly morphing colors. They swirled even more ferociously and all the hues began to meld together, coalescing until they became a unified gleaming gold to match Merlin's shining eyes. With a last word from its creator, the pillar of light brightened to the point where Arthur was forced to clench his eyes shut and turn away. An earsplitting screech pierced through him, and then there was only silence.

Blinking furiously in the sudden absence of light and color, Arthur looked around to see that Morgana and the column of magic that had encased her were gone. There was only a scorch mark on the floor of the dungeon to mark where she had been, lying next to Morgause' ashes. The light radiating from Merlin's skin was dying away and his hair and clothes had stopped blowing about. The brilliant golden glow of his eyes was fading away to be replaced by his normal blue, leaving him looking just as he normally did—small, meek, and relatively unimpressive. How inaccurate a first impression that truly was. As soon as all the light had dwindled and died away, Merlin placed a hand to his head and swayed where he stood, then stumbled slightly. Arthur rushed forward to grab hold of him, though he wasn't completely steady on his feet at this point either.

"Sorry," Merlin mumbled weakly, and Arthur was relieved to hear no echoing overtones, just his normal everyday voice. "That was a lot of magic."

"Really, Merlin, was that what that was? I hadn't noticed," Arthur said dryly. Merlin snorted, then winced as pain shot through his head and he felt slightly dizzy again. "Are you alright?" Arthur asked worriedly, noticing his pained grimace.

"I'll be fine," Merlin said. "Just a little drained. Got a bit of a headache, actually." Arthur stared at him.

"A little drained?" he repeated in stark disbelief. " _Mer_ lin. That was the most amazing display I've ever seen in my life. That was absolutely incredible." Merlin looked up into Arthur's face skeptically, as if checking to see whether or not the prat was being sarcastic or making fun of him. When he saw that Arthur was completely serious, he just grinned sheepishly. Then the reality of what he had done sunk into him and he pushed away from Arthur's supporting hands to drop to his knees beside the scorch mark that was all that was left of Morgana.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse and choked as he fought not to cry. He truly was sorry, for everything. All of this could have been averted, he was sure, if he had just ignored Gaius' cautions and come out and told her about his magic when hers had manifested itself. Maybe none of this would ever have happened. She may have stayed by his and Arthur's side, fighting to see the good in magic and bring it back to the kingdom peacefully. Instead, his neglect had pushed her into the destructive and spiteful arms of Morgause and had eventually led to her death by his own hand. She had been his friend, and he hers, and it was all he could do now to stop his tears falling for  _that_  Morgana, the one who would ride out to save his home village without a second thought just because she cared for him, the one who would rescue and harbor a young druid boy at great personal risk because she couldn't stand to see a child executed, who would stand up to Uther and all his fury when he was out of line because no one else was bold enough to do so.

Merlin hadn't realized his tears had gotten the better of him until he felt Arthur's hand on his shoulder. He looked back to see Arthur too had tears in his eyes looking down at what remained of their friend, his unknown sister. He felt her loss just as keenly, even more so because her treachery was only recently made clear to him. Just two weeks ago she had been his friend, his confidante, someone he cared about and would protect to his dying breath. Now his mind and heart were thrown into a confusing jumble of painful emotions. The clearest and most prominent sentiment making itself known, though, was relief that Merlin had survived; he knew in his very heart and soul now that he would not have been able to go on without the clumsy, cheerful, gentle, yet immensely powerful warlock by his side. He was his best friend, his most trusted advisor, his biggest fan, his harshest critic, and his brother in all but blood. He tried to convey all this through touch alone as he squeezed Merlin's shoulder and nodded to him, a small, sad smile on his face. He knew Merlin had understood the gesture when he smiled back and placed his own hand over Arthur's.

They stayed where they were for another moment, honoring the memories of a happier and more innocent Morgana before Merlin climbed to his feet, wiping his streaming eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. He took a deep breath and shook himself slightly, coming back to full alertness. He looked around suddenly, glancing up to the small window through which clear moonlight still filtered.

"We're alone in a subterranean dungeon on the edge of a hostile kingdom in the middle of the night with no horses," he pointed out dully. Arthur pursed his lips and nodded.

"Yes. Yes, we are, Merlin," he agreed flatly. "That's not the most pressing issue, though." Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. "What the hell are we going to tell my father?"


	18. Chapter 18

They began walking as soon as Merlin was feeling strong enough to do so, knowing that their and Morgana's absence from Camelot would have been noticed long before they got back and the alarm would have been raised. When the sky was turning that dull, luminescent grey color that precedes true dawn, Arthur realized something and frowned; the magic that he had grown so accustomed to in the last week or so had gone. There was no longer any warm, comforting weight settling in his chest or squirming around in eagerness. If he really searched, reaching down as far as he could inside of him, he could feel a tiny spark still there, no more than an cinder in place of the inferno that had been there until recently. Absently, he brought a hand to his chest and pressed there, confusion and a gloomy sense of loss warring for dominance in his heart. Confusion won out, for the time being.

"Merlin?" he started. The warlock in question looked over to him, paying for his lapse in attentiveness by tripping over a tree root and nearly sprawling across the forest floor on his face. Arthur caught him by the elbow with a roll of his eyes and set him on his feet again. Merlin grinned sheepishly at him but quickly returned his gaze to the terrain lest he trip again.

"Yes, Arthur?" he responded.

"What exactly happened back there?" Arthur inquired tentatively, wondering if it was still too soon to be broaching the subject or if Merlin was comfortable discussing it. Merlin didn't seem bothered by the question and just glanced over to him again.

"I'm surprised it's taken you this long to ask, really," he admitted. "I was expecting you to be demanding answers as soon as we were out of the dungeon."

"Hey, I can be tactful when I want to. But I'm assuming you have a much better idea of what all of that was than I do," Arthur said sulkily. Merlin nodded.

"You would be right about that. Or, at least, I'm pretty sure I know what happened. About ninety-five percent sure, I think. I can't be completely sure, seeing as there's likely no way of cross-referencing it with or comparing it to anything that's ever happened before. I have a tendency to break records and set new precedents and all of that fun stuff, so I'm usually left piecing things together like this after every incident. But I think I have it all figured out," he told Arthur. The prince was still a bit astonished at how flippantly Merlin could talk about his unparalleled magical strength, but he just shook his head.

"Then do enlighten me," he said with a sweeping gesture before him. Merlin's brow creased in concentration as he tried to think of where to begin; it was all quite confusing and he wasn't sure where to start with the explanation.

"Well," he began after a moment of thinking, "that stone was meant to suck out my soul, right?" Arthur nodded his affirmation. "That's what it would have done to most people. However, as you and I know, I am not most people. What Morgana didn't know is that I am Emrys. That may not really seem all that important, but it is, because it means that I don't just  _have_  magic, I  _am_  magic. It's apparently very different, according to the dragon at least. Most people just carry their magic around inside of them beside their soul, coexisting with it, but my magic  _is_  my soul. Being a creature of the Old Religion, something that relies so heavily on magic, I can't survive at all without my magic; it's what keeps me running, it's my life force. So, by all rights, that stone should have killed me."

"Then why didn't it?" Arthur asked curiously, brow furrowed. Merlin shot him a grin, practically glowing with excitement at having come to a fantastic conclusion.

"Because we had exchanged pieces of soul, Arthur," he explained eagerly. Arthur just raised an eyebrow at him in puzzlement, not quite understanding what he meant by that. Merlin rushed to elaborate. "When you were dying and I saved you, I did so by forcing a whole lot of magic into you. My magic is my soul. So this means that I  _gave_  you a part of my soul, and in return—as everything having to do with magic and the Old Religion is about balance, equal exchange, a life for a life, all of that—I got a part of  _your_  soul back. And that piece of your soul that I had taken into myself was enough to keep me alive after the stone took all of mine." Arthur stared at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, shocked at this concept. Trading bits of souls. So they were quite literally  _soul mates_? That was felt a little awkward to say, even in his mind, so he shook the thought away and looked back to Merlin.

"So what did I do? With the light and all that…" he asked, gesticulating vaguely in what was supposedly an imitation of the white light and magic he had emitted.

"Pretty much exactly the same thing I did when I healed your wound," Merlin stated simply. "You gave me back the part of my soul that I had given to you, and I gave you back yours in return. It was enough to get me going again, bring me back to myself."

They fell silent, Arthur struggling to comprehend the enormity of what they had done. They had  _shared souls_. That seemed so fantastical and mystic that he had trouble believing what Merlin had explained to him; it just didn't seem possible. But, in a strange way, it also made perfect sense. It explained, at least, what had happened to Arthur's magic; he had given it back to Merlin—well, most of it. There was still that tiny spark, a remnant of the exchange, and he assumed that Merlin still had a bit of his soul left in there as well. He would miss the magic, though. The thought of not having it saddened him, as he had really been warming up to the idea of being a warlock, but giving it up had been worth it. Not only was Merlin alive and well because of this strange give-and-take of magic and souls and such, but Arthur had learned valuable lessons from the whole experience. Sorcerers were not evil, for one. Magic could be used for incredible good. His father was not infallible and Arthur did not have to follow in his footsteps. Merlin was the best friend he could ever hope to have, and the worst possible enemy he could ever be stupid enough to make.

That last thought brought a smile to his face; who ever thought he'd be justifiably wary of pissing off his scrawny, clumsy, forgetful, perceptive, good-hearted, smart-mouthed manservant. The two of them walked on for several more minutes in companionable silence, lost in their thoughts and concentrating on placing their feet carefully as the dim morning light grew brighter and clearer around them, filtering through the canopy of leaves to fall on them gently. Maybe half an hour later, Merlin let out a loud laugh quite suddenly and Arthur jumped slightly at the unexpected noise, looking exasperatedly to his servant for an explanation of what was so funny.

"Remember what the Great Dragon said?" the other man chuckled, looking thoroughly amused. Arthur shook his head; the dragon had said a lot of enigmatic things in their brief meeting, but that didn't mean he remembered every word the blasted lizard had spoken. "I just remembered. He practically told us all this, and we just weren't listening closely enough to catch it!  _'When the prophets said your very souls would be more closely intertwined than any had ever been before, I did not believe they meant it so literally!'_ " Merlin said in a hoarse, raspy imitation of Kilgharrah's booming voice, then he began laughing again, his shoulders shaking and a wide grin spreading across his face. Arthur tried, and failed, not to laugh along with him, but he had to give in eventually; it just felt so good to let go and laugh freely after all the fear and tension and pressure that had plagued him recently. The two young men actually had to stop walking a moment later and brace themselves on nearby trees to keep upright. By the time they managed to gain control of themselves again, they both had red faces and tears in their eyes and neither one of them could remember what in the world had been so incredibly funny. They also found that they didn't really care.

The rest of the journey back to Camelot—a fairly unpleasant undertaking, as it was without any horses or supplies, made a great deal easier by Merlin's frequent use of magic—took them the better part of two days. Two very long, tiring, boring days of steady walking and perfectly enjoyable bickering. They spent the majority of the time trying frantically to think up plausible explanations for their disappearance and Morgana's subsequent demise that did not involve any form of magic on Merlin or Arthur's parts, or the foisting of the blame onto anyone else, which would almost certainly risk starting an unjustifiable war no matter who they pointed the finger at, and which explained why there was no body for them to bring back to the city with them. Eventually they just decided to pin the whole thing on Morgause.

As soon as they had entered Camelot, they had been swarmed by guards and taken straight to the council room where Uther was waiting, looking furious and anxious at the same time in the way only he could. He demanded to know of their whereabouts, and if they had Morgana with them. Arthur began to explain, working very hard to remember all the details he and Merlin had worked out on their voyage back. Morgause, he said, had kidnapped all three of them when they had been in Arthur's room. Merlin and Morgana had been trying to convince him not to go out to train with the knights because of his recent injury and ongoing recovery, Morgana going so far as to take his sword from his hand, he said. Next thing they knew, they were in a faraway dungeon in the middle of the night with Morgause standing over them.

Merlin, who Morgause did not perceive to be a threat in any way, was only loosely bound with a thin rope and was mostly ignored, whereas Morgana was tied with much sturdier rope and Arthur was clapped in sturdy iron manacles. Morgause had taken Arthur's sword from them and thrown it into a corner where he couldn't reach it. Merlin, on the other hand, was able to work his way toward it while Morgause was explaining her diabolical plans to Arthur—as evil sorceress bent on the kingdom's destruction are so wont to do for some reason—and cut his bonds. He managed to release Morgana from hers as well before Morgause noticed what they were doing. Hoping to force them into submission, Morgause had turned her hand to Arthur, who was still captive and unable to fight back against her, and threatened to kill him if they did not comply with her wishes. When Morgana would not back down, Morgause threw a deadly curse at Arthur and Morgana bravely flung herself in the path of the spell, which destroyed her completely. Merlin, using Morgause' surprise at Morgana's selfless sacrifice to his advantage, managed to plunge the sword through her heart. Writhing and screaming her defeat, the witch exploded in a burst of magic.

Merlin looked askance at Arthur as he explained this part; it had not been what they had agreed upon as they were walking. Arthur was supposed to have said that Merlin had managed to free Arthur and  _he_  had killed Morgause in revenge for Morgana's death. Arthur, however, wanted Merlin to get the credit he so often deserved and was so rarely afforded. And this time he could actually make it happen. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Gwaine nudge Lancelot in the ribs at this part of the tale, smirking and winking and looking for all the world like he knew something no one else did. The more subtle knight just raised an eyebrow at his drunken friend, who crossed his arms and pouted at his aloofness, and then gave Merlin a soft smile. Merlin smiled back at him, but as Uther's appraising gaze fell on him, Merlin couldn't help but blush to the tips of his ears. He held his gaze steadily, though.

"You did well," the King said in a firm but not altogether unpleasant tone.

"Thank you, sire," Merlin answered quietly, bowing his head in deference to the king. "I only wish I had done more." Even Uther could not doubt the sincerity in his voice, though he could not have known that Merlin wasn't exactly referencing what had happened two days previous but rather years ago, when Morgana had still been his friend, had needed him, and he had abandoned her. If only he had reached out to her then. But he could not dwell on what-ifs and if-onlys. Arthur seemed to know what he was thinking and he gave him a look that clearly told him he was stupid for thinking it. It made Merlin smile again.

"You went above and beyond the call of duty, my boy," Uther assured him. "And you will, of course, be rewarded for your courage." Merlin's head jerked up and he shot a dismayed look at Arthur, who was biting his lip to keep from laughing. He knew exactly why Merlin was looking that way; the  _last_  time Merlin had gotten a reward for doing something heroic, he had been assigned as Arthur's personal manservant. That had been more a punishment for both of them than a boon at the time, as they had not exactly been on the best of terms, but the arrangement worked out pretty well in the end. Merlin turned back to the king and fixed a grateful smile on his face, thanking Uther profusely for his generosity. Uther nodded and returned to collapse into his throne. He waved them all away shortly after and they went quickly, wanting to allow the king time to grieve for his cherished ward in peace and solitude.

As soon as they were out of the large double doors, Merlin and Arthur were swarmed with people wanting to know what  _really_  happened. Laughing and shushing them all hurriedly lest they be overheard by someone not in the know, Merlin just jerked his head for them to follow him and lead the way to Gaius' workroom. It was a tight squeeze with so many people in the small chambers—Merlin, Arthur, Gaius, Gwaine, Lancelot, Gwen, Leon, Elyan, Percival, and even Willard, Kay, Jarold, and Paul, who still looked uncertain but also incredibly curious and a little privileged at being included in the big secret—but they all managed to fit in somehow and they settled themselves on various work surfaces to hear what would undoubtedly be an epic tale. They were not disappointed, captivating as Merlin's storytelling was. Those gathered were really a great audience, fixated on Merlin's wildly gesticulating hands and gasping in all the right places. By the end of the story, everyone was shocked silent.

"That  _bitch_ ," Gwaine swore loudly into the quietness.

"My sentiments exactly," Merlin said with a chuckle. "Well…sort of. It's a little more complicated than that, I have to admit, but still." He caught sight of Gwen, who was frowning down at the floor. "Gwen? You don't look very surprised." She looked up to him before sighing and smoothing her skirts over her knees.

"I can't say that I  _am_  very surprised," she confessed. "We used to be such good friends, but ever since she got back she's been…different. She'd been remarkably cold to me as of late, though she tried to cover it. She would smile and all, but it never seemed to reach her eyes. She started treating me as more of a servant than a friend, which she had never done before she was taken. And…and I actually saw her doing magic once." Merlin's mouth dropped open and he stared at her.

" _What?_ " he said crossly. "You saw her doing magic and you didn't tell me?"

"I told Gaius," she defended, "and besides, you weren't here to tell at the time!"

"Where was I?"

"I don't know."

"Well, when was it?"

"A few months ago, when Arthur was off on his Quest for that trident."

Merlin's mouth snapped shut and he immediately looked to Gwaine, who looked as though he was about to say something about it but was swiftly silenced by Arthur's furious warning glare. Gwaine held up his hands in surrender, grinning conceitedly, and Merlin just fought down another laugh at the pair of them.

"Where were you, anyway? You never did tell me," Gwen asked, sounding interested. Merlin looked at Arthur, who glared at him as well and shook his head infinitesimally as both a warning and a threat, then at Gwaine, who shot him a mischievous, encouraging look and a wink, and then at Gaius, who just smiled indulgently. He smiled at his mentor back before looking at Gwen, face full of innocence.

"At the tavern."


	19. Epilogue

"Will you stop  _fidgeting_?" Merlin snapped in frustration. He slapped Arthur's hand away from the clasp of the red ceremonial cloak being draped around him. Arthur let out a small huff of irritation but did not reach for the offending fastening again. He allowed Merlin to secure the cloak properly and smooth it across his shoulders so that no wrinkles remained. "Nervous?" Merlin asked, knowing the answer.

"Of course I am, Merlin, how could I not be?" Arthur admitted, his voice tight and somehow sounding small. He watched his own expression in the mirror in front of him, hoping his nerves wouldn't be as obvious to his audience as they were to Merlin; to his own eyes, he looked ready to bolt. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself and calm his racing heart. He felt Merlin's hand come to rest comfortingly on his shoulder and his friend met his eyes in the mirror.

"You're ready for this, Arthur. I know you are," he said calmly. Arthur felt the hand on his shoulder squeeze, and then he felt a rush of magic enter him. It wasn't a lot, nowhere near as much as they had exchanged the year before, but it was enough to spread a wave of peace, serenity and confidence through him. He looked over his shoulder at his friend and gave him a small grateful smile.

"Do you really think so?" he asked, more of his doubt and vulnerability coming through in his voice than he was comfortable with. Merlin nodded. "How can you be so sure?" Merlin beamed at him, practically radiating pride and faith in his friend and master.

"It's your destiny, for one thing. For another, I know you. I know you inside and out, better than you know yourself, and I know you're ready for this. You've been ready for a while now. You will be a great king, Arthur. The best." His voice was so assertive and so sure that Arthur found himself drawing strength from them, almost to the point of believing them himself. He looked back into the mirror and straightened his shoulders, trying to project the image of a strong king. Judging by Merlin's grinning face, he succeeded. Merlin clapped both hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake.

"Come on," he said. "You've got a coronation to get to."

Arthur's coronation was a spectacular event with the peasants of the lower town clamoring to get inside the throne room despite it being far too small to house them all. Uther had passed away the week before from natural causes, having been wasting away slowly since his beloved Morgana's tragic death a little over a year previous. The people mourned his loss respectfully—he had been a good king, on the whole, and had brought the kingdom a great deal of peace and stability—but they were eager and excited for Arthur's reign to begin; there was no doubt in anyone's mind that his reign would far surpass his father's.

Merlin and Gwen beamed with happiness and ill-disguised pride from the front row of spectators as the glittering golden crown was placed on Arthur's head, and he caught both their eyes and smiled back at them. Merlin was the one to begin the chant of  _Long Live the King_ , with the knights picking it up next until the entire room was filled with jubilant voices and stamping feet. Merlin could hardly believe that he wasn't dreaming; Arthur was king, Arthur knew about and fully accepted his magic, there hadn't been any serious magical threats in months. His destiny was growing closer and closer every day. Everything was almost perfect. The only thing wrong was that the laws banning magic were still in place. Arthur, however, was not one to go back on his word, even if it had been given so long ago. Halfway through the magnificent feast held in the newly-crowned King Arthur's honor, the king in question pulled Merlin aside.

"I'll make the announcement in a few days," he said under his breath, his eyes on Guinevere as she talked and laughed with the nobles around her like she was born to be one of them; a good thing, seeing as she  _would_  be one of them in a few weeks when she and Arthur were finally able to be married. "Do you…would you mind if I used you as an example?" Merlin looked at him, brow furrowed.

"As in…I don't know, stand me up in front of a crowd and out me as a warlock?" he asked skeptically, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. It wasn't that he didn't want everyone to know what he'd done all these years, all the times he had saved their lives or kept them safe, but the popular opinion of sorcery still wasn't very high after twenty-odd years of prejudice against it. "Doesn't that seem a little risky? Dangerous, even?" Arthur shook his head.

"I don't think so. The people love and trust me, and if come out and say that I trust you whole-heartedly, then I think they will believe me," Arthur said slowly, hoping he was right. "And I won't _start_  with that, of course. I'll work my way up to actually saying outright that you have magic. That'll be the grand finale, so to speak. But only if I have your permission. I'll change the law either way, but I think this would make the transition easier."

"Why's that?" Merlin inquired, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Because you're just so damn loveable," Arthur told him with a roll of the eyes. He bumped his friend's shoulder with his own, making the lighter man stumble a bit and rub the spot in exaggerated indignity. "Everyone in the entire city knows you in some capacity and they all like you. You're just one of these people who are inherently  _good_ , and if anyone could change these people's minds about sorcery, it would be you." Merlin looked at him slyly out of the corner of his eye and grinned lopsidedly.

"…you like me."

"Of course not, Merlin, don't be ridiculous."

"No, you  _do_ , you actually like me. Admit it."

"Never."

"Aw, come on, just once."

" _Mer_ lin."

"Shut up?"

"Oh look, you're finally learning."

This time it was Arthur's turn to keep  _Merlin_  from fidgeting. He watched as the warlock paced back and forth across the small corridor they were inhabiting, turning sharply at each wall and restlessly tying and retying his neckerchief in an attempt to make it look more presentable. As if there was anything he could possibly do to make a neckerchief presentable. With a huff of annoyance and a small fond smile—though he would never admit to that, just as he wouldn't admit to actually  _liking_  Merlin—Arthur strode forward and stopped directly in front of him, bringing him to a full stop. He placed his hands on his nervous friend's shoulders and looked him directly in the eye.

"Merlin. Calm down," he ordered him firmly.

"Oh, that's easy for you to say," Merlin said, his voice pitched higher than it usually was out of stress. "You're not the one about to reveal the secret you've been fighting your whole life to hide in front of a crowd of, oh I don't know,  _the entire kingdom_!"

"But that's the reason we're doing this, remember? So you don't have to hide anymore. And I'm only going to say this so many times, so listen closely. You, of all people, deserve to be recognized for everything you've done. And the people deserve to know that they all owe their lives to you. That is why we're going to go out there, and you're going to stand and smile and try to look respectable and  _not fidget_  while I explain to everyone all the amazing things you've done and blah blah blah." The corner of Merlin's mouth twitched up at his trivializing tone, and Arthur smiled hearteningly and gave him a little shake. "Now come on. I know you've made it your goal in life to be late to everything you possibly can, but this really isn't an occasion you can afford to miss."

"Prat."

"Idiot."

Arthur gave Merlin a half-hearted shove toward the door, which lead to a high balcony overlooking the courtyard. Arthur strode past him with all the authority he could muster and exited to a storm of applause and cheering. Merlin hesitated, lingering in the doorway, breathing deeply to quell his anxiety and trying to make his feet move him forward. Eventually Arthur looked back impatiently and jerked his head forward and Merlin forced himself to move out onto the balcony. Immediately he felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on him and heard curious mutterings throughout the crowd. It was times like this when Merlin really wished he didn't blush so easily. Arthur caught everyone's attention when he stepped forward, new crown glinting in the sunlight, and addressed them all.

"Greetings, friends," he called, his voice echoing around the courtyard. Everyone fell respectfully silent and the crowd settled down to listen to the king's speech, waiting to hear what he needed to tell them all at once. "I'm sure you're wondering why I called you all here this afternoon. I have a big announcement to make, something monumental. A step forwards, but also, in a way, a step back. But progress nonetheless." He obviously had everyone's attention now and the people shifted eagerly. "Before I break the news, however, I have a bit of a story I want to tell you. This is the story of a young man, a very brave and slightly foolhardy young man." Merlin snorted behind him, but Arthur ignored his servant and continued on with his tale as if he hadn't heard. "This man came to Camelot and within days he had managed to save my life. Since that time, he has done so over and over again. It has been a regular occurrence over the last few years. Until fairly recently, however, I was unaware of this man's protection.

"You see, I could never know of my protector's actions because he was using magic." There arose murmurings throughout those gathered below in the courtyard, some of suspicion and distrust, others merely of surprise and disbelief. Arthur let them mutter themselves into silence before speaking again. "Yes, friends, there has been someone defending and shielding me with magic for years now, never asking for recognition, never seeking any sort of reward for his selfless deeds. He stayed in the shadows, using his gifts to save not only my life, but that of my father, my beloved Guinevere, and so many others. He has, on multiple occasions, saved the entire kingdom singlehandedly. All of this out of the goodness of his heart and the hope he held for a brighter future, one where he would not have to hide who he was.

"I have gathered you all here to tell you that that future has come. I intend to give my protector the credit and the gratitude he deserves, and to make the future he dreamed of for so long into a reality. Come tomorrow, I will officially abolish the law banning sorcery from Camelot. Magic will return to this kingdom and it will flourish peacefully as it did before the trying times of the Great Purge and the destruction and bigotry it left in its wake. Merlin, my friend," Arthur said clearly, gesturing for the still-blushing man to step forward and take his due, "I owe you my life a hundred, a thousand times over, and I owe you my kingdom and my people. And it is for you, and for all your kin, that I lift this ban and welcome magic back to the realm." Arthur held out a hand to Merlin and the warlock clasped it firmly, his grin wide enough to cause his cheeks to hurt and his glistening eyes to almost disappear. Grinning back, Arthur threw caution to the wind and pulled his best friend into a tight hug.

Merlin could barely hear over the rushing of blood in his ears that the crowds below were applauding and cheering and stamping their feet. Arthur pounded him on the back a few times and Merlin pulled back, laughing and trying to stop his tears from falling. For once, Arthur didn't call him a girl for this display of emotion. Instead, he nodded his understanding and turned Merlin around to face the people, who had begun to chant his name. At the front of the throng he saw Gwen, her hands over her mouth and tears streaming down her face, and Gaius, who looked prouder than he had ever seen him. Behind them were the knights who had already known, whooping and hollering their approval. Gwaine had a tankard of ale in hand and was toasting Merlin as loudly as possible. Lancelot was struggling to hold the drunken knight upright, laughing and shaking his head.

Merlin scanned every face in the mob of citizens and was startled at how few hostile faces he saw. Sure, there were a few who looked less than pleased at the proclamation, but the vast majority were smiling up at him and calling out their gratitude to him. It was absolutely overwhelming and he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. His heart felt like it was about to explode in his chest and he felt lighter and freer than he could ever recall feeling. He didn't have to hide anymore. Magic would be free in Camelot and he could finally be himself. Like he had told Arthur, it was the best feeling in the world. He felt his friend come up beside him.

"So. What was it you said about destiny?" Arthur asked in a would-be casual voice. Merlin turned to look at him and saw the grin spreading across Arthur's—his master's, his king's his friend's, his  _brother's_ —face. He couldn't help but smile back at him.

"We're not quite there yet," he said, turning back to look out over the people of Camelot, rejoicing as they were the return of magic to their beloved kingdom. "But we're pretty damn close."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends my badly-staggered uploading adventure. As always, I'd love to hear from you all on how you liked (or didn't like, I guess) the story. <3


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